This song wins. I'm sure there's an important message in this song. I'm not exactly sure how to interpret it, but I'm pretty sure it's about being fed up with your bullshit.
John.
A public service announcement followed me home the other day.
I paid it nevermind.
Go Away.
Shit so thick you could stir it with a stick-free Teflon whitewashed presidency.
We're sick of being jerked around!
Wear that on your sleeve.
Broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, lord.
Count your blessings.
We're sick of being jerked around!
We all fall down.
Have you ever seen the televised St. Vitus subcommittee prize investigation dance?
Those ants-in-pants glances?
Well, look behind the eyes.
It's a hallowed hollow anesthetized "save my own arse, screw these guys" smoke and mirror lock down.
Broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, lord.
Count your blessings.
The Papers wouldn't lie!
I sigh: Not, one, more...
It's been a bad day.
Please don't take a picture.
It's been a bad day.
Please.
We're dug in deep the price is steep.
The auctioneer is such a creep.
The lights went out, the oil ran dry...
We blamed it on the other guy.
Sure, all men are created equal: Here's a church, here's a steeple.
Please stay tuned -- we cut to sequel.
Ashes to ashes.
We all fall down.
Broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, lord.
Count your blessings.
Ignore the lower fear.
Oh, This, Means, War!
It's been a bad day.
Please don't take a picture.
It's been a bad day.
Please.
Broadcast me a joyful noise unto the times, lord.
Count your blessings.
We're sick of being jerked around!
We all fall down.
It's been a bad day...