...with regards, T.H. - Project 86

Out of the playground’s ashes

Come little men with little games

They’re playing war

They’re planning new crusades like new arcades

The reason for the season is to flood the media

With suicidal mania

And paint this landscape with this human waste

So lets all sing a song of love

Lets sing sing sing sing

Sing until our throats bleed

And if this child could sing he would say

I don’t need anybody

I don’t need anyone

I don’t need your guidance home

Watch as I build my empire

Watch as I rise and fall

Watch as I fight all alone

History’s a stage for re-runs

For 3 A.M.

insomniacs who quote the episodes

If tricycles came with guns we’d all be safe

Little green men didn’t come from outer space

With coupons in the Sunday Paper

They came from corporate brains

So until we all confess

And admit we stole the candy

These little men are playing games

From here to eternity

But I’ll be sitting by myself here

Waiting oh so patiently

Waiting for the sky to fall

And purge frail humanity