Mall of America

They say it's murder on your folk career To make a rock record with the 'Disappeared.' We'll let the police helicopters Pull stereos out of the lake There is not an image That I must defend There are no art forms now Just capitalism So send the National Guard To the Mall of America And they can dress dead bodies up In tight designer jeans Diesel! Prada!!! It looks good. It looks good. Yeah, it does I'm gonna lie down with the common sound I'm gonna bury my blues so it's never found I'm gonna learn to pay attention To the television sets And if my sadness Needs a catalyst I'll just uncover my eyes So much stimulus And at the shopping epicenter I have an agoraphobic fit So buy a fountain soda Put some sugar on my tongue I'll wake and write Some songs with no soul With no soul