| Lucian, I’m so tired of flesh and blood
|
| My lord is growing so vile
|
| Shamefulness descends upon our shoulders
|
| Kicking the corpse 'til the fun wears off
|
| Bleeding septums in SW1
|
| Talking Nietzsche 'til the sun comes up
|
| Rich boys, they just need a hand
|
| Or a hand down from papa
|
| Wouldn’t it be too divine
|
| With a start, middle and an end?
|
| Wouldn’t it be too divine
|
| If we could see a way out?
|
| Wouldn’t it be too divine
|
| With a start, middle and an end?
|
| Wouldn’t it be too divine
|
| If we could see a way out?
|
| There’s a blizzard in the after-hours bars
|
| Raining my way down the Strand
|
| Who are these fags in their red bow ties
|
| Ruining it for the rest of us?
|
| Self-content for the young
|
| The younger said that history will always eat itself
|
| Rich boys, they just need a hand
|
| Or a good old-fashioned war
|
| Wouldn’t it be too divine
|
| With a start, middle and an end?
|
| Wouldn’t it be too divine
|
| If we could see a way out?
|
| Wouldn’t it be too divine
|
| With a start, middle and an end?
|
| Wouldn’t it be too divine
|
| If we could see a way out? |