Waxed and new, an invertebrate too, and a megaphone for a voice.
An electric head, it appears braindead, and a privilege instead of a choice.
American eyes, an American mouth, and he fires an invisible gun.
When connection comes and election lies, then the workers finally strike.

Raise up your guts with your industry.
Staple your possessions to the floor.
I'm sending my affection, Venezuela.
But don't glorify your progress anymore.

Come to me, I am the fun new think machine.
Come to me, I am the only one.


Lyrics submitted by killyougood

From Venezuela, With Love song meanings
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