Lyrics
Singing fight songs, the signs of hope are on the front lawns again
Mimosa molotovs to firebomb that feeling of dread
Multilevel moms trading ways to self actualize
Inject a little oomph into our potemkin lives
It's kind of tragic, but kind of funny
What kind of revolution takes all the money?
And gives you 50,000 self help books about how
If you just kept your room clean, you could live out your dreams
Now we're dancing with chains, let the mask slip from your face
Cuz losing touch, I promise it never hurts that much
Except for the hand in the dark
That finds a million ways to break your heart
We thought the mob, was fine with slumming
And the revolution, was never coming
It takes just 56 channels of American Gladiators to feel serene
As they live out your dreams
Now we're dancing with chains, when the mask slip from your face
Cuz losing touch, I promise it never hurts that much
Except for the hand in the dark
That finds a million ways to break your heart
It's kind of tragic, but kind of funny
What kind of revolution takes all the money?
And gives you endless HR seminars about how you
Specifically you, must do better
So now you're arguing with the coked up dads, who are online defending
The crooked cops, who are done pretending
That their love affair with Nazi shit is just a meme
Even our villains, they're pretenders, living on the fumes of a dream
Dancing with chains, when the mask slip from your face
Cuz losing touch, I promise it never hurts that much
Except for the hand in the dark,
That finds a million ways to break your heart
Dancing with chains