| We’re up to our chests in last years debt and armed
|
| To the teeth with spite and grief. |
| It’s the fine art of original
|
| Sin, fighting these wars we knew we’d never win
|
| We’re searching for oil, we’re searching for gold
|
| We’re searching for god, or so I’m told
|
| We’re up to our throats in next years hope and armed to
|
| The nines with malice inside, our heads and our hearts drowning
|
| In false starts, standing in a flood trying to find a spark
|
| We’re searching for oil, we’re searching for gold
|
| We’re searching for god, or so I’m told
|
| We’re searching for solace, we search for peace
|
| We want everything that’s out of reach
|
| The rains they came and you know they never stopped
|
| Knee deep in soil yet still missing the plot. |
| The lies you told
|
| Are know the cards you fold. |
| Pull the knife from our heart it’s
|
| Dripping with gold
|
| We’re searching for oil, we’re searching for gold
|
| We’re searching for god, or so I’m told
|
| We’re searching for solace, we search for peace
|
| We want everything that’s out of reach
|
| All these stories won’t go untold, something to
|
| Remember when our hearts run out of gold |