| Song | We Who Finish Last |
| Artist | Shai Hulud |
| Album | Misanthropy Pure |
| 作曲 : Fletcher, Fox, Gormley ... | |
| We cast no shadow | |
| The stars do not shine here | |
| Be content to light your own path | |
| And burn what you have crossed | |
| The bridges were frail | |
| The people, pretended | |
| Storm forth with the light of the inflamed | |
| Reclaim and ignite the sky | |
| Brightly to blind | |
| Rip off the veneers enabling opportunists to thrive | |
| Dam the rise of grime and rats | |
| More sickening than a social circle that believes itself charmed | |
| Are the writhing droves of blowhards and yes men | |
| Clamoring to slither in | |
| Stay sovereign on the outside | |
| We are who finished last | |
| The unaffected | |
| Contrasting the wide and white | |
| We are who finish last | |
| Sound | |
| Indignant | |
| The iron to gleaming teeth | |
| The salt on saccharin | |
| We who finish last | |
| Proudly in their darkness | |
| Lit from within | |
| Glad hands grabbing for brass rings | |
| Painting their bricks gold | |
| Keen sycophants filthy scheming | |
| Furthering the feuds of their adored | |
| They have picked their enemies impeccably | |
| Very keen indeed | |
| And so siege the scorned | |
| We are naught but beds of thorns and dark horses | |
| Unwelcome guests who will just not mind their place | |
| A single musket ball to pierce and lodge inside | |
| And lead the circle to crack | |
| We cast no shadow | |
| The stars do not shine here | |
| No genuine light to be found | |
| Only rays of cold, synthetic beams on a mock aristocracy | |
| so the vain and insecure can feel revered and cared for | |
| For a cheap, fleeting moment | |
| Truly noble | |
| Storm forth with the light | |
| We who finish last | |
| Proudly in our darkness | |
| Lit from within | |
| Conflict in the chest | |
| To be concerned for the needs of such heartless men |
| zuò qǔ : Fletcher, Fox, Gormley ... | |
| We cast no shadow | |
| The stars do not shine here | |
| Be content to light your own path | |
| And burn what you have crossed | |
| The bridges were frail | |
| The people, pretended | |
| Storm forth with the light of the inflamed | |
| Reclaim and ignite the sky | |
| Brightly to blind | |
| Rip off the veneers enabling opportunists to thrive | |
| Dam the rise of grime and rats | |
| More sickening than a social circle that believes itself charmed | |
| Are the writhing droves of blowhards and yes men | |
| Clamoring to slither in | |
| Stay sovereign on the outside | |
| We are who finished last | |
| The unaffected | |
| Contrasting the wide and white | |
| We are who finish last | |
| Sound | |
| Indignant | |
| The iron to gleaming teeth | |
| The salt on saccharin | |
| We who finish last | |
| Proudly in their darkness | |
| Lit from within | |
| Glad hands grabbing for brass rings | |
| Painting their bricks gold | |
| Keen sycophants filthy scheming | |
| Furthering the feuds of their adored | |
| They have picked their enemies impeccably | |
| Very keen indeed | |
| And so siege the scorned | |
| We are naught but beds of thorns and dark horses | |
| Unwelcome guests who will just not mind their place | |
| A single musket ball to pierce and lodge inside | |
| And lead the circle to crack | |
| We cast no shadow | |
| The stars do not shine here | |
| No genuine light to be found | |
| Only rays of cold, synthetic beams on a mock aristocracy | |
| so the vain and insecure can feel revered and cared for | |
| For a cheap, fleeting moment | |
| Truly noble | |
| Storm forth with the light | |
| We who finish last | |
| Proudly in our darkness | |
| Lit from within | |
| Conflict in the chest | |
| To be concerned for the needs of such heartless men |