From Oklahoma to Bagdad

I really could come up with a thousand ways to say it
If I really wanted to
I could just let you collapse when you reach the top of your insanity
But then it would be too late
I'm sick
Wounded, tried and lost
(Last time I saw this, I couldn't fully grasp it)
You're too stuck to the same old ideas
You're too busy playing with yourself
You're too happy, as a drunk man, but happy
Why won't you just let it go?
As if it was some kind of prize
You hold on to it, restlessly
As if it was some sort of divine prize
(And maybe it is, in your eyes)
I do not understand it
Maybe you are right and I'm wrong
But I still don't understand
How a hawk can wound the world
How the saints are so blood thirsty
How you have the Midas touch for destruction
Maybe it's just me
But I don't understand it