Junk mail, junk bonds
And junk food
All this junk
Kills the mood
Stack it up, tie it in bails
But the junk still prevails

Crushing your blows
Paper piles
Out the windows
Miles and miles
Maybe this curse
Isn't the worst of the worst
What's wrong with the world?

Track marks, track lights
Track you down
Keep track of where
You been found
If you're unseen
Maybe your meaning's too mean
What's wrong with the world?

Maybe this curse
Isn't the worst of the worst
But is it what Heaven's rehearsed?
What's wrong with the world?

© 2005 GNILSONGS

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