Situation normal
Hey, mister big shot
Won’t you give me a break?
The times they are a-changing
And the kids are on the make
They’re burning down the flagpoles
And drowning all the saps
I didn’t run no demonstration
Just to take the rap
I didn’t make no intercession
I didn’t buy that screed
I threw you in the river
And put it on my feed
Please, Mr. Postman
Won’t you bring me your cup?
They’re putting down some shills
And building others up
There’s anger in the loading bay They bought the sense grievance We sold the kids a pup We call it “Situation: Normal.
All Fucked Up”
See also
From the well-thumbed pages of the Jolly Contrarian’s songbook