They say anything, we listen
They think we think too much
They got kids to feed, they could feed a hundred-thousand kids
Fall into piercings, then are torn to pieces
The hide of the scapegoats they hang on the epigrams
They hanging party leaders in a mausoleum
They match to the neon within our cheap wallpaper
They knocked out they're teeth and their gums will bleed dry
The nails have been swallowed twice and we're still here
Trained as mannequins, drilled for decimation, we sold out
Counting dead things and holding concrete bricks
Make promises we can't keep, or walk away agonized
I'll be the world's abandoned critic, count my pencils
Brain dead, pretend these eyes struck where John Hood once stood
Who's set the mouse trap?
Worth our weight in slogans in a domestic sense
They laugh too hard, choking in their chicken soup
It's not truth, drunk off the fumes of a scorched Earth
Got to sleep on the switchboard we drive drunk
In the ocean drinking as I'm plucking these teeth
No one notices all the way up the sand tower, seize us all
Borderlands on a modern globe, no more boarder wall left
Selling us old chunks, driving dinosaur blood
Covered from my tears, head to toe, almost pitiful
In the wild west, you got a gun to keep you company
You say "never again", for the next three years alone
Dance in rain, and the sunlight raises into your skin
Puking into your guts


Who's gonna make it even?
Twenty-eight years against me, ten-thousand years against me
Tell me, what's the state of the American standard?


You decide yourself an artist, the world can't bear to watch you spill the guts you got left
They can hand you a victory you can't win
Dead trying out through the keyhole, you know everything stopped caring
Run with the astronauts, become an Indian
Sign the dotted line and join the new tribe of Babylon
I'd rather run with astronauts, become an Indian
Than sign the dotted line and join the new tribe of Babylon
Music isn't around you, it's mostly noise
You want to line dance, too much arrows in your back
With the slaughtered cows, milk running through the streets
Off to the post office mailing myself to Costa Rica
We run like this forever, but we never really were
We cave in boat space, lost everyday
We were good sports, but we made much better game
Sweating or crying what's the difference?
Who's gonna chase the chaser?
Who's gonna feed the runner?
Who's gonna refill the bleeder?
What will they say when they finally catch you?
I can't stand knowing, even us already broken
Some die completely broken
Even corpses stand to reason, even Ayatollah's gotta laugh
Sit citizen, stand, run, lie down


Lyrics submitted by Ru1ner

The American Standard song meanings
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