| The motorcade is never-ending
|
| The marshalls wave their wheel appeal
|
| Only some of them are breathing
|
| Only some know what to feel
|
| The generals grit their teeth and smile
|
| Just for a little while
|
| Until they think they can’t be seen
|
| Then pour contempt through eyes that seem like magnets
|
| Small and hard
|
| Magnets
|
| They rolled away down through the arches
|
| The wet streets shined confetti-lined
|
| The sun burns everything it touches
|
| The motorcade dissolves the mind
|
| The madman grits his teeth and smiles
|
| Just for a little while
|
| As though he knows he can’t be seen
|
| Then pours contempt through eyes that seem like magnets
|
| Small and hard
|
| Just like magnets
|
| Out of the crowd
|
| Just like magnets
|
| Kennedy’s children all magnets
|
| Waste of time at the Alamo
|
| All the kids singing «Go Johnny, go Johnny, go!»
|
| All the cars parked out of view
|
| And someone on a roof with a job to do
|
| But the hotdogs sell and the cameras roll
|
| It’s a star situation, but it’s out of control
|
| There’s a man with a message and it’s written on lead
|
| There’s a man who is god, but god is dead
|
| Still we grit out teeth and smile
|
| Just for a little while
|
| As though we think we can be seen
|
| We pour contempt through eyes that seem like magnets
|
| Small and hard
|
| Just like magnets
|
| Out of a crowd
|
| Just like magnets
|
| Kennedy’s children all magnets
|
| Magnets staring up
|
| Just like magnets
|
| Burning the sky
|
| Just like magnets
|
| Kennedy’s children all magnets
|
| Magnetized boys, boys, boys |