Products of lust through incidental reproduction
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A group of kids stuffed, primed and fated for self destruction
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Four or five years will get the job done
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Sometimes advancement comes with two or even none
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But let me tell you, with buzz cuts looking horrible and tom needing de-lousing
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With the finest olive snowsuits on and goggles for reflected sun
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We sing old fashioned songs and trudge through low-income housing
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We press on, we press on, I¡¯m guessing that we¡¯re close
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I see some Eskimos, lost six or seven toes
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And I can finally say that we¡¯ll never make it home
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It¡¯s all we know
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And snowshoeing is fucking tough within this Arctic Circle pit
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But I¡¯ve danced worse than this
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The northern lights try to reflect the path at 30 centigrade below the zero mark
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The top of the world is calling
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with sensors reading low on oxygen
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We ask ourselves some simple questions
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If not us, who?
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If not now, when?
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Tundra Kids
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| No Trigger |
