Seems ain't much left that's fair anymore. sh**, most days not even the weather. So through think and through thin and through thinner yet, let the stuck-downs stick together. We can barely afford our nests some months, let alone any wax or feathers to take a running start at the closest flame just to end back here where we're tethered
When what goes around has run aground, we'll be staying up late, making a racket. Kicking our way out of our caskets. We're not dead yet, despite some great attempts. Maybe a few hours short of a new dawn, and we ain't slept yet but it feels like we're waking up
What'd I tell you about carrots and sticks?
And how behind the guy with a neon smile is an inherited pile of low bids? What'd I say about tacks and heels? Convenience, wages and apple pie; It's a f**ing bribe
When what goes around has run aground, we'll be staying up late, making a racket. Kicking our way out of our caskets. We're not dead yet, despite some great attempts. Maybe a few hours short of a new dawn, and we ain't slept yet but it feels like we're waking up