We'll need a new jungle as the zoo age begins
We'll hunt down television sets and kill them for their skins
We'll squeeze the juice from cell phones and we'll smear it on our faces
While zebra cars at dusk drink from a gasoline oasis

With our necklaces of radio teeth and barcode face tattoos
We'll build a tribal fire of sound bites cut from Central Network News
We can sacrifice each logo, all those big fluorescent words
Up from the satellite flowers keening, rise the karaoke birds
And they go:
Who are these shadows in my way?
Who are these shadows in my way?
Native lore[?] is in my way
In my way
Native lore[?] is in my way
In my way
In my way
In my way

We'll boil and drink recorded heads and hang them out on sticks
We'll start a jaguar cult and dress up like an XJ-6
Turn our CDs into wind chimes, turning slowly in the breeze
We'll pursue the vegan cannibals through fiber optic trees

Wearing Sony bones through noses, when the central monkeys scream
We'll wade waist-deep into the Astroturf of joystick jungle dreams
We'll forget that we had parents, we'll forget that you were white
In the kitchen, the peaceful kitchen, the lion sleeps tonight
And we go:
Who are these shadows in my way?
Who are these shadows in my way?
Native lore[?] is in my way
In my way
Native lore[?] is in my way
In my way
In my way
In my way

In my way
In my way
In my way
In my way