Your conscience fails, your logic breaks.
Your best ideas are all big mistakes.
History is full of the likes of you third tier champions.
Your speaker works but your thinkers broke.
You're always last to get the joke.
Disasters are drawn to the sound of your ghost ship galleons.
If one's call for help is your dinner bell,
where the evidence is concerned, did you earn your hell?
You can blame yourself or somebody.
If your story is lies, if your words are all fake.
If your mouth's engaged while both hands take,
our stagnant culture's the legacy of wind spooked stallions.
And if image is all that you've become, we're in denial while you're mean and dumb.
We lie and demand to be lied to by well dressed salesmen.
If one's call for help is your dinner bell,
where the evidence is concerned, did you earn your hell?
You can blame youself or anybody else.
But I'm done, pious hun.
We're at the end of a phase in the form of a fine line.
It's a beautiful life if you get anything you want right on time.
In the blink of an eye it's all going to go away, It's a beautiful life if you get anything you want any day. It's a beautiful life. Such a beautiful life. All lyrics property of Head State