We Are All Compost in Training

I want freedom, not a boss
 That comes in a forty ounce bottle of anything,
 Or taped scotch paper.
 I eat meat and drive trucks and shoot guns and don't trust
 In the federal government to solve our problems.
 You might think I'm joking, but I'm not a republican.
 Call me when your president pulls out of Afghanistan,
 'Cause that's the day I'll get a cell phone number,
 And you can call and leave a message on voice mail that day.
 I fell asleep smoking so I'd wake up on fire,
 'Cause that might get me out of bed for a while
 And back into battle with the things that I breathe,
 And the holes in my arms, and the way that I think.
 And if freedom is doing what I want, well that means
 I gotta know what that is, not just what it isn't.
 So I'll dig up the dirt and I'll throw down some seeds,
 'Cause the world needs more spinach,
 Not more motherfuckers like me.
 Motherfuckers like me!