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Golden Tombs

de Chemtrails

All this work just to delay
What'll only happen anyway
Bemusing, confusing
We choose what you call losing
If sincerity is too cliché
Then it doesn't matter what you say
Lost youth in, post truth land
Crossed fingers on a dead hand

Feels like a nightmare
But I can't sleep
We pray the right prayers
But we won't attack
Sit back and watch evil grow
Lost in the whirlpool
But help's dirt cheap
It's kind to be cruel
When your heart's jet black
Sit back and watch evil grow

Post post post modernity
20 layers deep in irony
Bemusing, confusing
We choose what, you call losing
What's it all supposed to be?
Doesn't really matter much to me
Lost youth in, post truth land
Crossed fingers on a dead hand

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