When I was only six years old,
I shook Reagan's hand.
Never did I feel skin so cold.
I'd swear that he was a dead man.
Riding in a bulletproof limousine,
a gun man watching the car.
The bloviating scarecrow, a media superstar.
Ronnie went and armed the world
and then he forgot his name.
Ronnie went and armed the world,
and nothing's ever been the same.
If the White House is closed, we can climb the walls,
and take it to the circle that started it all.
They can answer all the questions that we would never know.
And we can sacrifice the nation on a reality show.
A solar panel roof on the White House,
removal by the corporate czar.
A filibusting game of cat and mouse.
Surveillance from the field of stars.
A crack head is born in the ghetto
with drugs from the Contra affair.
And we sell arms to the brown and the yellow
and turn our backs on our own in despair.
Ronnie went and armed the world
and then he forgot his name.
Ronnie went and armed the world,
and nothing's ever been the same.
If the White House is closed, we can climb the walls.
We can read the Constitution that started it all.
We can testify to questions that they don't want to show.
And we can sacrifice the system for all the people at home.
