Laugh in the face of death under masthead
Hold your breath through late breaking disasters
Next to news of the triteThe codes and the feelings that meant to be global
Like coke in the nose of the nobles
Keeps it alightAnd the wrath and the riots
And the races on fire
And the music for tanks with no red lights in sightGot you cryin'
Cryin'
Oh, whyin'
Oh, my my my
Gold is another word for culture
Leads to fattening
Of the vultures
Till this bird can barely flyAnd Mary and David smoke dung in the trenches
While Zion's behaviour never gets mentioned
The writing's on your wallBlood on the cradle
And the ashes you wade through
Got you callin' God's name in vain
Leaved the damned to damn it allGot you cryin'
Cryin'
Oh, whyin'
Oh, my my my
Broken nose, coloured glasses
Can't see for the thorns
And you just can't stand no more
What a clumsy kind of lowTime to take the wheel and the road
From the masters
Take this car, drive it straight into the wall
Build it back up from the floorAnd stop our cryin'
Oh, cryin'
Oh, whyin'
Oh, my my myOur cryin'
Our cryin'
Our cryin'Still you try, try, try
