Lyrics
All you fanatics, bored with your own lives trying to muscle in on mine
Well, here's an issue for you, what about my right to be left on my own to decide
Well, I guess it makes you feel important like you're all doing something worthwhile
With your programs and agendas and your who's who of offenders
That's got you marching down the streets while we're all running through the aisles
Well, I've got a mind and I've got a mouth
And I've got two eyes of my own
And I don't need your flesh to bleed my bones... that ain't love
How many talk shows can I watch in one day
'Guess it depends upon which channels I can change
And how many topics can I look at from both ways
When all you're trying to find is who to blame
And if it's the God in heaven that's talking through you
Well, I hope to hell He's politically correct
'Cause these days you can't be too familiar
And I'd hate to be in your shoes with the wrong sign around your neck
And what if there isn't just one answer
What if everybody's right and everybody's wrong
While we keep eating at each other like some cancer
Just trying to live up to who we're dying to belong