|
As we creep along |
|
The beat from our wings keeps us humming |
|
To the buzz of our hives requiem |
|
This comb will rot away |
|
Our queen is filled with eggs |
|
And thats just the worker instinctively feeding me |
|
So if these beasts wants something sweet some may go down after the sting |
|
We've raped the nectar from patches deep ' |
|
Cause if it tastes like honey then it must be sweet |
|
We're working hard one hundred and fifty-four |
|
Trips to shit out just a few teaspoons |
|
Of our delicious excrement |
|
So sing along to our queens five year epilogue |
|
For the end of her breeding days |
|
Regurgitate |
|
All the shit that we ate ' |
|
Cause if it tastes like honey then it must be sweet |
|
Don't you mind the fact you're not breathing? |
|
Just keep feeding the ones we'll be needing |
|
Don't you mind the fact you're not breathing? |
|
Just keep feeding the ones we'll be needing |
|
We keep flying off |
|
But we crawl right back |
|
Yeah we crawl right back back |
|
We crawl right back |
|
We keep flying off |
|
But we crawl right back ' |
|
Cause when you're this small! (anything can crush you) ' |
|
Cause when you're this bored! (anything can crush you) ' |
|
Cause when you're this small! (anything can crush you) |
|
Heres a glass for a colony greater than death |
|
My blistered hands my blistered hands they soak |
|
Heres a glass for a colony greater than death |
|
My blistered hands my blistered hands |
|
We're working hard one hundred and fifty-four |
|
Trips to shit out just a few teaspoons |
|
We're working hard one hundred and fifty-four |
|
Trips to shit out just a few teaspoons |