Across the desert in the back of my mind
I can see the dirt cracking
I can smell the shit frying
As the dirty demons who dwell in this place
Try to drag me down to their awful disgrace
And I promised I wouldn't go back there again
I wish I'd never turned my back on that black television
They got the blood and the guns and the sex in all places
With the horse-for-sale bodies
And nobody-cares faces
10,000 ways to speak a false word
And if you ain't got money
Your voice won't be heard
But if you feel weary sit back in your chair
Up your IV to a fat sack of black television