They're stickin it to us now that we're almost there  But it's our job to keep the lies out of the breathing air  Are we in a position to pull an insurection  When it's our job to keep  Corruption from total eruption  Off the track  Short on time  Human race  Fall behind  The Great Escape  The Vast Empire  The fields of mines  The cold barbed wire  We're faling out and withering away  Should we try and make a fairweather day  When the finish line is beyond far away  They're stickin it to us now that we're almost there  We'll never make it through the tear gass and the smoke filled air  They're killing everyone nameless and poor  Outside I struggle to survive  It's a fucking war  We're dying off and sinking away  Far beneath the wings of the Enola Gay  Where the podium is out of bullet's range