It’s been one thousand years
All the other people
Laying on my back
Praying to the steeple
And I think to myself
Would I be better of dead?
Better of dead?
Holy war!
Fuck your holy war!
“Speak deep truth”
Said the man on the floor
He was showing me some kind of evil
This partnership
Was written in the sand
Cold, grey, west coast, ruggard land
and I think to myself
Would I be better of dead?
Better of dead?
West Coast rugged beauty is in my head
What if when I’m waking you’re still there
West Coast rugged beauty is in my head
Everytime I close my eyes I see you staring back at me
And I think to myself…

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