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one night I laid down and turned the lights outnext thing I know I'm awake in the white houseonly a few feet away from the presidentwho's giving answers to reporters while they question hisforeign policy his stand on ecologythe war on poverty and his plan for the economyand as the camers focuses nobody noticesmy form crouched underneath a desk motionlessthen he told them its time for actionand he doesn't care who's willing to back himhe's attacking for the AMerican dreamplans for blasting at the terror regimeprepared it would seem to spend dough on more weaponshe said no more questions rose and walked pastfingers crossed heard him laugh then he saw me it seemsand whispered..........(even if you kill me I'll still be in your fuckin' dreams......)[repeat]a couple nights with my alarm set for ten I've goneto sleep in my bed then woke up in the pentagonin the basement, adjacent to the war roomby the general's chair, where they're planning your doomsaying civilian casualties are a small pricefor killing their faculty to get oil and gas for freethe president said these Muslim's practice blasphemyif I don't blast them first they coming after meSongtexteain't notice me, talking openly bout smoking threeworld leaders and covering paw prints of pervertswearing rosaries, it's like a spells holding mecontrolling me, forcing me to see the sights that they're showing metalking bout blowing these, countries off the maprockets smoke 'em openly, cause we got the gatsleaned back in his chair stared at me it seems and said........(even if you kill me I'll still be in your fuckin' dreams.......)some nights when I drift into dreamthis is the scene, I wake up a killer marineguerilla machine, with a nine milli that screamtitanium hollow tip clips to drill out your spleenmy team, is the last resort, a special task forceperforming government hits, we catch a fast corpsethen leave without a trace, your body leave without a facesend your cadaver off with NASA to rot in outer spacethis time I've been assigned to find the mindswho design anti-American crimesI climb, through the mountains I hear a sound in a cave andI think I found 'em I walk in and cock my pound and I stopI'm shocked astounded at what I seeW.B., Mr. American me, chilling with the terrorist threediscussing oil prices, my legs went soft like boiled rice withthe thought that I'm caught in soiled vice gripsstabbing my heart like ice picksthe betrayal is never ending like Atrayu and my life isflashing in front of me I cock my gun and they scream.....(even if you kill me I'll still be in your fuckin' dreams!) Aus Songtexte Mania