It's the time of the year when the morning keeps you under
the sheets
It's the time of the year when the darkness is falling with
a fake
In a moment we will all be just a bright spark
Forgetting all our memories in place for an endless dark
And I can't believe you think money
Will save yourself from all that's coming your way
If the coffee gets cold put it in a hole and call out my
name
Push the people aside, mishear and let the maker take the
blame
Oh these cardboard, mystical, heaven-held sources of gold
Foreign mister calls my name hear it back on the radio
And I can't believe you think money
Will save yourself from all that's coming
The future won't remember kindly
Your kids will hate you, your wives will leave you this way
