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Who To Point The Finger At

de Hesitation Wounds

Oh

A nation bows to the altar of trash
A fool's golden God that needs to be smashed
Lips always pursed spewing rhetoric
In the simplest of terms so the simple gets tricked

And it makes me fucking sick
And it makes me fucking sick

A nation drinks from the stream of shit
Proudly they cheer as they fall for it
A con artist dictator that loves a slogan
America, from damaged to broken

And it makes me fucking sick
And it makes me fucking sick
And it makes me fucking sick
And it makes me fucking sick

You charlatan fuck
You charlatan fuck
No way to defend
You charlatan fuck
We'll celebrate your end

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