In three months and a day your homes will plague you Your paychecks will haunt you And your love life will own you This is it We'll expect the cost (we'll expect the cost)
Spring does not exist, neither does Jesus To whom inquires first While you sit their praying hard to a god that doesn't exist As your head follows down It's in your mouth Forty years, into nights Child this will end your life Forty years, of your life
A bad taste A terrible sense of smell Fool yourself For the books your children bleed for
Were going to throw the burning bodies Down the wishing well
During a raping You can't get back your pennies During a raping you can't hold yourself on trial
All we are, are fitter men Cast us as violent All we know can't hold us back Beautiful children with wreck less hands Will doubt them
