Sold My Mind to the Kremlin

With no place in the processional
And no seat in the convention hall
I sold my mind to the Kremlin
On the Fourth of July
I was wearing a Yoda mask
You were talking like Lou Ferrigno
A hat made of paper
A vest made of ugly
An intercom with just one button
«This bag is almost empty»
That was your sole communication
From unimproved roads
On the Fourth of July
Fishing holes don’t exist
And country music with all those lists
Of things from yesterday
You can no longer get
Let’s talk about Patty Hearst
Skeletor and Charles Manson
Reagan closed the hospitals
For the mentally ill
Train stations filled up with the mentally ill
And I’m singing into a tape recorder
Trapped in this thing
That I can’t get away from
«This bag is almost empty»
That was your sole communication
From unimproved roads
On the Fourth of July
With no place in the processional
And no seat in the convention hall
I sold my mind to the Kremlin
On the Fourth of July
With no place in the processional
And no seat in the convention hall
I sold my mind to the Kremlin
On the Fourth of July