Cold brains, unmoved, untouched, unglued
Alone at last
And no thoughts, no mind, to rot behind
A trail of disasters

A final curse
Abandoned hearse
We ride, disowned
Corroded to the bone

The fields of green are bent, obscene
I lay upon the gravel
And a worm of hope, a hangman’s rope
Pulls me one way or the other

A final curse
Abandoned hearse
We write these songs
Corroded to the bone

A bird of song is heard no longer
In the evacuated Heavens
The drain is drawn and drained and gone
And on and on, it doesn’t matter

A final curse
Abandoned hearse
We ride, disowned
Corroded to the bone

A bird of song is heard no longer
In the evacuated Heavens
The drain is drawn and drained and gone
And on and on, it doesn’t matter