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