The sun is shining
|
We should be making hay
|
But we're dead from the waist down
|
Like in Californ-i-a
|
Victory is empty
|
There are lessons in defeat
|
But we're dead from the waist down
|
We are sleeping on our feet
|
We stole the songs from birds in trees
|
Bought us time on easy street
|
Now our paths they never meet
|
We chose to court and flatter greed, ego disposability
|
I caught a glimpse, and it's not me
|
|
|
Make hay not war
|
Make hay not war
|
Make hay not war
|
Or else we're done for
|
And we're D from the W down
|
|
|
|
|
There's no contracts binding
|
No bad scene beyond repair
|
But when you're dead from the waist down
|
You're too far gone to even care
|
We stole the songs from birds in trees
|
Bought us time on easy street
|
Now our paths they never meet
|
We chose to court and flatter greed, ego disposability
|
I caught a glimpse, and it's not me
|
|
Make hay not war
|
Make hay not war
|
Make hay not war
|
Or else we're done for
|
And we're D from the W down
|
|
(repeat)
|
|
The sun is shining
|
|
-----------------
|
Dead From the Waist Down
|
| Catatonia |
