We’ve got bellies, filling quickly.
We’ve got leaders filled with lies.
They’ve got armies in their pockets,
We’ve got empty, in our eyes.

We’ve got poisons in our water.
Got a feel for being conned.
Got agents in our data.
We’ve got plastic, in our blondes.

I’m goin’ back, to the bad old days.
Goin’ back to my dirty ways.

Got computers, filled with nothing.
Skies running out of air.
We’ve got memories, watch us scatter,
‘Cause we’re running out of chairs.

Every moral has a story.
Where there’s fire, there’s probably smoke.
You might not see anyone laughing.
Guess we never got the joke.

Lyrics submitted by goldeng8te

Bad Old Days song meanings
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