Here you go again armed to the teeth,
Have you set your alarm for the thieves at the doors?
They’re forming a queue,
Why can’t we all just get along?
So save your breath for someone who cares,
Because the sky doesn’t hold any more so called angles,
Why can’t we all go up there?
Impossible to answer.
The wheels are in motion now,
It’s out of my hands and into the frying pan with you.
Frankly my dear I don’t think you give a damn about anything remotely interesting.