Subordinates

I’ll tell you what I want to hear, dressed up in your souvenir
You can hold it to your heart, but it’s still mine
And if I warn you with a punch, it only ever happens once
First a little hurt, then a crooked spine
The clouds in the sky and a dream come true
And cotton candy in pink and blue
Babies and angels and holding hands
Because I’m selling somebody the «fuck you» plan
«Fuck you» plan
I’ll kick you a crumb and a broken chair until you chant that life be fair
Then shower pittance down from my privy tree
And when you concede to that I am the one, don’t do it for fame or do it for fun
I do it because you follow, so follow me
The stars in the heavens and garden of truth
A country fair and a kiss from you
It’s all for the children and your favorite band
And telling everybody here my «fuck you» plan
«Fuck you» plan
«Fuck you» plan
This is a future historic site of where you lose a crucial fight
That will satisfy my reason to cut your tongue
The torches are lit when the sun goes down — I will rule this broken town
The subordinates know the song, but they ain’t gonna sing
Sing
The clouds in the sky and a dream come true
And cotton candy in pink and blue
Babies and angels and holding hands
Because I’m selling somebody the «fuck you» plan
«Fuck you» plan
It’s a «fuck you» plan…