To the makers of manner
The giver of tools
You fucked up tomorrow
Now enforce your rules
You gave us good head
Took our minds of the dread
You ran to support us
And sold us instead
Still we hope and we pray
That our lives may soon change
All of this self decay
Will be washed away washed away
In the undertow
To the makers of manners
Who pray for us tools
You fucked up tomorrow
Now enforce your rules
You gave us a sign
Called it divine
We're still playing for salvation
A buck at a time
Still we hope and we pray
That our lives may soon change
All of this self decay
Will be washed away washed away
In the undertow
Maybe...
I'm just saying...
That the world...
Is a feather...
On the wind...
Of forever...
And it's gonna get blown away...
Blown away
Still we hope and we pray
All of this maybe someday
Blown away...
And that this self decay
Will be washed away
Washed away
In the undertow
In the undertow!!!

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