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by Page McConnell
If you feel like a spy and your cover’s been blown
And the company’s suddenly bringing you home
And your compass is spinning and you’re all alone
But the bosses assure you of your safety zone

There’s a secret society running the show
And the real information has nowhere to go
’Cause the media moguls are funding campaigns
To ensure that the two-party system remains
As discussions arrive they hit too close to home
But the only opinion you got is your own

I know the sun is gonna come out again
We can reason, respect, and maybe we’ll understand

Our empirical dynasty’s flexing its tones
To some countries so humble, completely alone
If we question too closely, we might just offend
All the two-car garages and lawns that we tend
When the wild western wildfires finally come home
And the only perspective you got is your own

I know the sun is gonna come out again
We can reason, respect, and maybe we’ll understand

When the crooked elections have become the norm
And it turns out that man has created the storm
That is melting the ice caps on earth’s outer domes
It’s the greed that surrounds us. It’s what toppled Rome
But if Shackleton’s people could find their way home
Then the only excuse that we got is our own

When the wild western wildfires finally come home
And the only perspective we got is our own

As expressions go by and the feelings made known
Then the only respect that you got is your own