Ah, it's open season here my friend

It always is; it always has been

Welcome, welcome to the U.S.A.

We're partying fools in the autumn of our heyday

And though we're running out of everything

We can't afford to quit

Before this binge is over

We've got to squeeze off one more hit

We're workin' it

Workin' it



Soon you will be dancing face-to-face

With the limits of ambition and the scars of the marketplace

Welcome to the land of flame and fizz

Where you will learn that packaging is all that heaven is



We got the little black car, the little black dress

Got the guru, the trainer, the full court press

We got the software, hard drive, CD-ROM

We got the exploitation.com

We got the pager, cell phone, bootleg methaqualone

The media, the message: you are what you own

We got the agent, lawyer, lapdog, voyeur

Talk show, book deal, round mouth, square meal



We're so busy covering our asses, we just can't commit

Oh, back off, don't bother me, baby

Can't you see I'm workin' it

Workin' it



It's plain to see Miss Liberty has not yet come of age

But, she loves to feed the animals as long as they're locked up in the cage

And everybody knows the girl's got balls of brass

Aw, kiss my ass



(Solo)

We've got a whole new class of opiates

To blunt the stench of discontent

In these corporation nation-states

Where the loudest live to trample on the least

They say it's just the predatory nature of the beast



But, the barons in the balcony are laughing

And pointing to the pit

They say, Aw look, they've grown accustomed to the smell

Now, people love that shit

And we're workin' it.

Workin' it

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