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Modern Vanity
The Armed
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Oh, it's a heart attack
No catch, I'm on fire, live to work, born to die
Oh, I'm the king of rats
So flush, Niacin, delusion, I can fly
I'm not lost
I'm just stuck
No pain
No plan
No blood
I'm not lost
I just want
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Oh, day is done again
No catch, no progress, live to work, born to die
I'm not lost
I'm just stuck
No pain
No plan
No blood
All those drugs
I want, oh-so much
Such fame
Such love
All those drugs are the same
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Fair fights are lies
Fair fights are lies
Pharisees wage coldest wars
So sell your cloak and buy that sword
It's a Ferris wheel that catches fire
And, yeah, it's all they ever wanted
Peace, love, no war, just kill the poor
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Pretend kings with plastic lives
In big clone houses hang their signs
"If you take yours, I best take mine."
Is this all that we wanted?
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