The first words that came could've been more inspired You must be hungry or tired or frozen So put up your feet, throw some coal on the fire And weave us a tale of delight
So we sit in our gun and we wait for our turn We'll be waiting all of the night So we sit in our gun and we wait for our turn We'll be waiting all of our lives
We're all to blame We hide away Let's take the sand from this bottomless pit It's hell to pay So run away Destroy on command all who came and then quit
It's been carefully planned by the ones you won't see Send out the monkeys, they come out of the bushes To piss in the punch and then smash up the decks It's your party, we're all obliged
So we sit in our gun and we wait for our turn I think you hurt him, there's blood on the floor So we sit in our gun, can I ask what you're on If you made it there's hope for us all
We're all to blame We hide away Let's take the sand from this bottomless pit There's hell to pay So run away Destroy on command all who came and then quit You're all the same So hide away Let's steal the sand from this bottomless pit
Compositores: Ian Thomas Ball, Paul Blackburn, Thomas William Gray (Thomas Gray), Benjamin Joseph Ottewell (Ben Ottewell), Oliver James Peacock (Oliver Peacock) ECAD: Obra #20461352 Fonograma #2283945