They call this America, Well I think it ain't fair-ica, They tell you "Go cut you hair-ica" Or you're gonna hear us all swear at ya, If God is a blotter in heaven, Then in earth we are dots, So who makes the rules, and who gets shot, People want to trip and smoke pot, But the police chief says "Thou shall not", The world's on fire, it's getting real fuckin hot, Well, hell, If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you got
