| The sun is shining
|
| We should be making hay
|
| But we’re dead from the waist down
|
| Like in Californ-i-a
|
| Victory is empty
|
| There are lessons in defeat
|
| But we’re dead from the waist down
|
| We are sleeping on our feet
|
| We stole the songs from birds in trees
|
| Bought us time on easy street
|
| Now our paths they never meet
|
| We chose to court and flatter greed
|
| Ego disposability
|
| I caught a glimpse and it’s not me Make hay not war
|
| Make hay not war
|
| Make hay not war
|
| Or else we’re done for
|
| When we’re D from the W down
|
| There’s no contracts binding
|
| No bad scene beyond repair
|
| But when you’re dead from the waist down
|
| You’re too far gone to even care
|
| We stole the songs from birds in trees
|
| Bought us time on easy street
|
| Now our paths they never meet
|
| We chose to court and flatter greed
|
| Ego disposability
|
| I caught a glimpse and it’s not me Make hay not war
|
| Make hay not war
|
| Make hay not war
|
| Or else we’re done for
|
| When we’re D from the W down
|
| Make hay not war
|
| Make hay not war
|
| Make hay not war
|
| Or else we’re done for
|
| When we’re D from the W down
|
| When we’re D from the W down
|
| When we’re D from the W down
|
| D from the W down
|
| D from the W down |