There's just enough cold water for
all the sinkin' ships around and
split red bricks tied to the ankles
of the people that they'll drown
for a revolving door of idiots to
get away with what's been
gotten away now.

This apocalyptic rusted moon
these pieces of the sky the paint
goes on it much too thin and the
epoxy never dries we're still
peddlin' hard for fairy tales
still pushin' hard to believe
in bold face lies.

That solid rock stays solid
all the time.