Marshall, Please Die

Open the iron gates, let the cattle free
Protect the books and those you hold dear
Dust fills the horizon, waiting for saneful rain
Come down. Pour down, we need some wetness on this ground

Your dream your blurring face on a cover of a magazine
Your dream is to be on the fucking tele

Run run for cover
Save the sane from this dirt go

Carry around this load and make me see this point
This point of yours you swear by
Although it might be very hard to take you seriously
Considering the fact that you have mash for brains
It will be really hard

You can try but I wouldn't put my money on you
Hope you succeed and get your well deserved 5 min. of fame