| I came out feet first and dancing
|
| Pause for a round of applause
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| I came up grasping for greatness
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| A coffin in search of a corpse
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| A bad joke, but they keep on laughing
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| A bad story to tell
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| A bad lie, but the suit’s okay
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| A bad debt, well, they sure won’t pay it
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| So do what I say
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| Not what I do
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| Blood on their hands does not run blue
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| Wake up, the hammers are humming
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| The snails are out salting the Earth
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| Get out, where’s everyone going?
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| This ship isn’t sinking itself
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| A bad song, but they keep on dancing
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| A bad story to tell
|
| A bad lie, but the suit’s okay
|
| A headline? |
| Well, they sure won’t say it
|
| So do what I say
|
| Not what I do
|
| Blood on their hands does not run blue
|
| Economists with bedside manners
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| Tax return, pop killer batches
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| Chipping Norton, doors on latches
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| Five bed flat, pack Neo-Fascist
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| Kitchen surface, polished granite
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| The market’s up in sunny Thanet
|
| Incorporating calisthenics, cottagecore and market ethics
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| That Soho house alt-right aesthetic is taking over
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| But this is God’s own country
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| But I am my own man
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| So if God don’t want me?
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| Then God don’t want me
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| I bet they hope those feet
|
| In ancient times
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| Just kept on walking |