|
Gone down and out feels like it's sinkin' |
|
With a sense of direction it comes tumblin' down |
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And the sky's gone dark, the streets are stinkin' |
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And the howlin' wind comes blowin' through the neon towns |
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And on sweepin' over the land |
|
Yeah, the shit is aiming for the fan |
|
And no, there ain't no chosen few |
|
It's comin' down by the minute |
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It's sad but you're in it, too |
|
You play along but deny the pressure |
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Side by side with fools you're feelin' like a King |
|
You're just a pawn moved around in a massive tester |
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But you play your part real, well so you, don't feel a thing |
|
And on sweepin' over the land |
|
Yeah, the shit is aiming for the fan |
|
And no, there ain't no chosen few |
|
It's comin' down by the minute |
|
It's sad but you're in it, too |
|
Dead set like you had a reason |
|
I could never walk your way |
|
My soul been down for treason |
|
And no, there ain't no chosen few |
|
It's comin' down by the minute |
|
It's sad but you're in it too |
|
Heart's gone black, the sky is fallin' |
|
Piling up outside the transplantation camp |
|
Time's up, coyote's calling |
|
Debris being left as treasures |
|
For the waiting tramp |
|
And on sweepin' over the land |
|
Yeah, the shit is aiming for the fan |
|
And no, there ain't no chosen few |
|
It's comin' down by the minute |
|
It's sad but you're in it, too |
|
Yeah, the street's a mess and the howlin' wind |
|
Blows hard, the hammer's fallin' again |
|
Ain't no jewels left in your crown |
|
With a sense of direction, it comes tumblin' down |
