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A million gallons of guilt |
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Stemming from a heart of Macondo |
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Poison in the blood and silt |
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Are so far beyond what lies below |
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And as the black tar fouls the beaches of our conscience |
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Thousand mile wide of Deepwater Horizon |
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The wave of turbidity crashes the shoreline of our tolerance |
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Drifting into immunity |
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Houston, I think I have a problem |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
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Macondo |
|
Macondo |
|
As hours turn into days |
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And then seep into nightmares |
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Fins and feathers slowly make their way |
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Through the loyal oiled waters |
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Liars |
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Excuses and royalties going down every second |
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As finger-pointing friends downplay their responsibilities |
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Hoping for dividends |
|
The wave of turbidity crashes the shoreline of our tolerance |
|
Drifting into immunity |
|
Houston, I think I have a problem |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
|
Save me from this madness |
|
This oil-covered sadness |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
|
Macondo |
