You know the earth is only sound because the people in the ground
Are said to have lost what once was found, so it only makes sense to keep on grumbling
It brings you to a halt, conniving, fills your wounds with salt, deciding
To assure it’s all your fault and you’re left to make what you want of the dead and the living

Don’t be shocked, when you find the screen door cocked
And some voice begins to mock, “You’re in the system.”

Someone lit a fire hoping somehow it would inspire
Something better from the choir, but it only made them play five German zithers
It brought you to a halt, conniving, filled your wounds with salt, deciding
It was all your fault, you’re left to rake the coals inside your coffin.

Don’t be shocked, when you find the screen door cocked
And some voice begins to mock, “You’re in the system.”

Babycakes, honey pie; Me and you; You and I
We are floating upward.

You won’t be thrilled when the help is all but skilled and the act; it aint what’s billed, and you’re the victim.
But what’s to win, is worth all your bloody skin and we’ll share that stupid grin and drop the dictum.
We won’t be thrilled when the help is all but skilled and the act; it aint what’s billed, and we’re the victims.
But what’s to win, is worth all this bloody skin and we’ll both confess our spin and drop the dictum.