Waiting for Black Metal Records to Come in the Mail - Have A Nice Life

What has become of all of us, all ceilings, all skies

Is that, the stars can swim a thousand dark miles

Before they ever see the floor again

With their backs against the wall on these last days

But then, we knew that would happen anyway

You drop that pitch-black pall

Over us, one and all, again

To propel your national machines

Giving us all the disease, but not the vaccine

A thousand tiny lives

Disappear into the black stretch

I guess I thought I’d feel something but I didn’t

But I didn’t, yes, that’s a myth

With their backs against the wall on these last days

But then, we knew that would happen anyway

You drop that pitch-black pall

Over us, one and all, again

To propel your national machines

Giving us all the disease, but not the vaccine

I would give anything

For a cool glass of water

Without this poisonous oil

No

It’s never going to be good enough

There’s no air anywhere

It’s all money now

Wouldn’t you do the same?