In the outhouse of wits and noughts
Thinking in afterthoughts
I design to whine no more
Pundits of present tense
No cash or common sense
Blame no souls but our own
With no thought for the rising seas
Never be well if you trust the rust of your teens
Fend for your corners, a turn of hospital beds
Live out your days in a maze of rich libertines
As soon as the ringing gong
Singing its ringing song
It just rings til it's all wrung out
Faster than a fox hunt, you're not your own master
But your friends let you down
With no thought for the rising seas
Surrender yourself to the sleep of deep and green
Breath your last breath as the barnacles suck on your eyes
There's no one who will sink quite as fast as rich libertines
(coda)

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