You've got Stalin running your away with your future
a bullet-proof train that's racing by,
a million people heading to Gulags
where they can all work to death.

All his famous friends are fading from photos:
echoes of the memories we've erased.
A race war hidden in the shadows
that you'll never read about.

You've got famine rampant in your ranks,
deliberately arranged by your self-crowned king,
all the poor and needy on a long bread line
being pushed into the next book burning.

"But that's not real Communism! No!"
"That's not real Communism! No!"

Mao, Mao, oh wow, watch the bullets go pow
when the rice runs out you can have a cow.
Where's the beef on the streets in these iron sheets
you just cover up murder, you just press delete.

Where's my mother? Where's my father? Where the Falun gone?
Are they hidden in the jungle like the Viet Cong?
You can rearrange the Bible just to sing your song.
If you're right by definition then you're never wrong.

You've got people vanishing from your streets.
You've got big black vans and mysterious heats.
Pile up, pile in, violin strings sing.
Olympian overcoat overlord overload.

"That's not real Communism! No!"
"That's not real Communism! No!"

"That's not real Communism! No!"
"That's not real Communism! No!"