That girl on the horse is naked
Who cares what she’s saying
The voice of Lady Godiva in no one’s eyes can I find
I’m too busy peeping at your body to pretend to care for your mind
A myth I’d rather not believe
From now until I step in the grave I’ll never leave
S/he leads a life similar to mine
But I’m sure s/he is much more satisfied
I feel our passion derives from thinking
But it’s easier to get the same feeling from drinking
Such a sad state of affairs
When affairs in the state is the only way anyone will care
Let down your hair, Kick off your shoes
Everyone’s screaming a different version of the blues
Just keep buying world wars and forbidden sex
Cause isn’t power and wealth how we’re taught to measure success?
Why even bother to pretend we can feel
And focus on any meaning in existence that’s real
Any institution that’s offering you freedom
Is just a master beating you so you know that you need ‘em
Keep me occupied with Coca-Cola and masturbation
And I won’t realize all that you’re taking
Lady Godiva may be dead and no one can recall what it was she said
But I guess it’s alright because isn’t she still naked?
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