I live knowing that we're slaves to be sold. And my paranoia is a joke, so I'm told. And where's the new Jesus? Well, he's off praising the Lord. The Yankee clinches the commie with his tight umbilical cord.
Celebrate, celebrate, emancipate. 'Cause now it's a new year. Watch the saints come, marching saints. Watch the saints go marching. Away from you, from you, from you.