Oh the air is here is getting thick
From all the dirty ciga-rhetoric
Oh I can feel my inside turning black
And if words were dollars I'd want mine back
Ooooh, every body gather round
They better head for higher ground
Ooooh, ever body gather round
We're gonna burn this building down
You know for every Tombstone Road they pave
They're gonna throw a tickertape parade
And every thousand years that trickle by
They'll find another prophet to crucify
Ooooh, every body gather round
They better head for higher ground
Ooooh, ever body gather round
We're gonna burn this village down
And when they're warm and cozy in their beds
We're gonna paint ourselves in black and red
We're gonna batter down the gilded doors
And put the writing on the walls
And the ceilings, and the floors
Anywhere we fancy the truth belongs
Ooooh, every body gather round
They better head for higher ground
Ooooh, ever body gather round
We're gonna burn this city down