This country is fucked
I stand in line at Penn Station, order my chicken teriyaki
The man asks if the debate is tonight
I’m pretty guarded about this stuff anymore
You never know when someone’s gonna follow you home

Then he says, 
“Are these really our best options?”
 We both laugh
 And slowly stop because it’s terrifying

I pull out the Florence Y’alls schedule and watch the hockey on the TV
As I wait to hear my name
I predict a low turnout
I predict a firestorm
This really doesn’t matter anymore
It’s a reality show
And we are all losing