Yeah, you can smell it in air...
Frustration, you know, like no one cares.
We´ve forgotten how to dream.
When they come scraping through the wreckage and leave it all for saints to sanctify,
You´ll be dancing...at the edge of the world.

Now read the headlines, What a sleeper.
Now I ain´t Ghandi and I ain´t no teacher.
But it´s all the rage with my generation, I´m doped up fat, can´t get it up.
Gimmie another shot I´ll be fine. I´ll be fine.
Some one´s kicking in your door and you´re screaming for the more.
Dancing at the edge. Yeah you´re just going to take it?
Ain´t going to make me bow my head. Dancing at the edge!

Time to listen, cards close.
Time to look at what´s behind closed doors.
Got gasoline, ammunition, like 911, a controlled demolition.

“Come to Jesus”, they say. “Don´t be a sinner”.
They chose a mad man to be our leader.
Now where´s the rage? My generation, doped up fat.
Can´t get it up. Gimmie another shot!!! I´ll be fine.

Campaign promises. No one´s buying it.
How much can you take before your back breaks?
Now where´s your rage?
My generation, doped up fat, can´t get it up.
Gimmie another shot!!! Gimmie another shot!!!