| Lose your coat and roll your sleeves
|
| This is demolition time
|
| Inventions full of spit and blood
|
| With blinders for the faint of heart
|
| Fortune’s ashes crowd this map
|
| But if I lose, well I don’t care
|
| As long as I get good and gone
|
| Let the anvil break
|
| Steal door lies into a whisper
|
| Now who can wait for the perfect fit
|
| I’m hearing the anvil sing
|
| I’m hearing the anvil sing
|
| Machine he took a picture of
|
| Of himself for children’s walls
|
| For forty miles the word went out
|
| That he would someday drown us all
|
| Deep inside this vodka clear
|
| But if I lose then I don’t care
|
| As long as I get good and gone
|
| Let the anvil break
|
| Steal door lies into a whisper
|
| Now who can wait for the perfect fit
|
| I’m hearing the anvil sing
|
| I’m hearing the anvil sing
|
| Let the anvil break
|
| Steal door lies into a whisper
|
| This is demolition time
|
| And if I lose, well I don’t care
|
| I’m hearing the anvil sing
|
| I’m hearing the anvil sing |