Lyrics:

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 going to lie down with a common sound
I’m going to bury my blues so it's never found
I’m going to 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 up and write some songs with no soul, with no soul