well, i just can’t recall: was it love made me fall?
cuz i can’t even re-member how to hold you at all.
though i know it’s true: i’ve been leaning on you for a lot of things.

all the eggshells on the floor say: i should try and see it your way,
but i can’t even re-member how i rolled throuh the doorway.
but the dancing of smoke on this air that i choke on: says another thing.

but for all my expectations, and my days so uneventful
i’ve followed your lead just to grow so resentful.
now i made up my mind: not gonna be afraid to stay behind

cuz i told you not to wait for me, told you not to wait for me,
and i know enough to ask it, ’least i know now ‘nough to ask it.
& on my own two legs, i’ll be sure not to put my eggs all in the
same one basket, the saaaame basket again

can’t i anti-trust ya, mister golden blowhorn?
my new nuclear family member?
cuz some TV news guy is reading out the blues i came here to sing.

but i read up on that wikipedia, this great big list of all the things they’re feedin ya,
now which one came first, the fake news or the fake media?
their eggs and their chickens are both makin me sick, and they own everything.

but now he says something’s wrong in China, so i’m tryin’ to change the channel,
but American Nightmares’ve been digging this tunnel
right straight through my mind: pumping all of my hatred down the line.

cuz they sold all of the stations to a monopoly man
and he knows how to cast it, just brooooad-broadcast it
now i don’t want to beg y’all, but it seems like you put your eggs all
in the same one basket, the saaaame basket again

now some folks of old spent their seasons in the cold
painting patterns of spring on eggshells, so i’m told.
it was a matter of duty to offer such beauty up to everything.

now i can’t be too sure: were those my people or were they yours?
but it seems safe to guess that whosoever they were,
they show’d some restraint, cuz they know’d that you can’t just take everything.

but the soldiers came a stompin’ to proclaim this world was lifeless,
so we sold off our eggs for the privilege of whiteness,
&then we made up our minds: time to leave the motherland behind.

now our hearts have been crossed, and we don’t know what’s lost,
but we try hard to mask it in the concrete and plastic.
now the eggs are all shattered, and the vessel they’re gathered in
it ain’t even a basket, no it’s not the same basket no more.