On a daredevil’s mission to gather us all to shake us, and wake us to answer the call New Bobby and Joan are taking the stage with fine-tuned stringed weapons and words dipped in rage Bob nods at the drummer to get the show started he counts the band in to the dark and uncharted They follow Bob’s lead tag along for the ride Joanie plays rhythm standing off to the side This is the ballad of new Bobby and Joan Fender guitar-lords with truth microphones This is the ballad of new Bobby and Joan bending their chords to the story they own Beware of cracked shadows and words made of hay of crowned jokers with pokers who demand that you pray Politicians and preachers can’t show you the way their pockets are lined by the players that pay Bob sets the tone with a sneer and a growl stalking the stage like a tank on the prowl Joanie steps forward and smiles at Bobby she’s not just his muse and she’s more than a hobby Bobby sees Joanie step up to the mic she covers terrain like a train on a spike This is the ballad of new Bobby and Joan Fender guitar-lords with truth microphones This is the ballad of new Bobby and Joan bending their chords to the story they own We’re zip-tied and tongue tied by Silicon Valley Kidnapped by agents who crouch in the alley We live in a land that is free of the brave led by a felon both cruel and depraved The dream we living turns silkweed to ashes broke by the rich and the market that crashes Elon and Donny are having a spat while democracy dies in a GPT chat Bobby steps forward his guitar is smoking there’s blood on the frets of the neck he is choking Joanie steps back away from the light Bobby burns bright and eclipses the night This is the ballad of new Bobby and Joan Fender guitar-lords with truth microphones This is the ballad of new Bobby and Joan bending their chords to the story they own The system ain’t broken it works as intended in the times we’re living the truth isn’t rendered When God taints your money the peril is real there’s no milk and honey just greed-driven zeal Where the rich just get richer the poor get to bleed just to get stitched up and ground into seed Boys tip-toe through crypto while praising their king in the land of bent knees and the home of the bling We take jets from Qatar and cut aid to the poor plan missions to Mars and sell weapons for war I don't know about you, but I can't take anymore It's time to take names and kick down the door This is the ballad of new Bobby and Joan Fender guitar-lords with truth microphones This is the ballad of new Bobby and Joan bending their chords to the story they own
