Lyrics and Music by Nicholas Toone. ©2022.
You wave the barkeep down, order a stronger drink;
Two parts aversion, three parts apathy
The colours are dialed low and the communal lip sync
Is written on the social marquee
Where you talk of cowering at supposed beastliness with fleeting hope
As you torch your broken bridge
And hang the crown with its own rope
Then endlessly commiserate about how you can’t cope
The anger comes and goes in waves,
Our choice between gods, prophets, or slaves
The world was promised once, yet no one led the way
Out of childish infinity
It’s the empty space that you refused to fill
Far removed from sensibility
And your avoidance of the harsh realities on which you choke
Stare at your blackened bridge
An watch the crown swing on its rope
Live constantly indifferent, vagabond misanthrope
Vexation comes and goes in waves
Our choice between gods, prophets, or slaves
You think that no one can see
The petty crimes you believe will never amount to anything
You cry out “servile!” but what’s not controversial
Is the saboteur on its knees
Arms raised and begging absolution like the past was but a joke
You can’t just fix the ruined bridge or cut the crown down from its rope
You never seemed to comprehend how slippery was your slope
Cold reason finally crests the wave
We choose to live as gods and prophets…
… but not slaves