Fuel Lyrics - Little Plastic Castle - Ani Difranco

They were digging a new foundation in Manhattan 

And they discovered a slave cemetery there 

May their souls rest easy now that lynching is frowned upon 

And we've moved on to the electric chair 

And I wonder who's gonna be president 

Tweedle Dumb or Tweedle Dumber? 

And who's gonna have the big 

Blockbuster box office 

This summer 

How 'bout we put up a wall 

Between the houses and the highway 

And then you can go your way 

And I can go my way 

Except all the radios agree with all the TV's 

And all the magazines agree with all the radios 

And I keep hearing that same damn song 

Everywhere I go 

Maybe I should put a bucket over my head 

And a marshmallow in each ear 

And stumble around for another dumb numb week 

For another hum drum hit song to appear 

People used to make records 

As in a record of an event 

The event of people 

Playing music in a room 

Now everything is cross-marketing 

It's about sunglasses and shoes 

Or guns or drugs 

You choose 

We got it rehashed 

We got it half-assed 

We're digging up all the graves 

And we're spitting on the past 

And we can choose between the colors 

Of the lipstick on the whores 

'cause we know the difference 

Between the font of twenty percent more 

And the font of teriyaki 

You tell me 

How does that make you feel? 

You tell me what's real 

They say that alcoholics are always alcoholics 

Even when they're dry as my lips for years 

Even when they're stranded on a small desert island 

With no place in two thousand miles to buy beer 

And I wonder is he different 

Is he different 

Has he changed 

What he's about 

Or is he just a liar 

With nothing to lie about 

Am I headed for the same brick wall 

Is there anything I can do 

About anything at all 

Except go back to that corner in Manhattan 

And dig deeper 

Dig deeper this time 

Down beneath the impossible pain of our history 

Beneath unknown bones 

Beneath the bedrock of the mystery 

Beneath the sewage system and the path train 

Beneath the cobblestones and the water main 

Beneath the traffic of friendships and street deals 

Beneath the screeching of kamikaze cab wheels 

Beneath everything I can think of to think about 

Beneath it all 

Beneath all get out 

Beneath the good and the kind and the stupid and the cruel 

There's a fire that's just waiting for fuel