|
Lose your coat and roll your sleeves |
|
This is demolition time |
|
Inventions full of spit and blood |
|
With blinders for the faint of heart |
|
Fortune's ashes crowd this map |
|
But if I lose, well I don't care |
|
As long as I get good and gone |
|
Let the anvil break |
|
Steal door lies into a whisper |
|
Now who can wait for the perfect fit |
|
I'm hearing the anvil sing |
|
I'm hearing the anvil sing |
|
Machine he took a picture of |
|
Of himself for children's walls |
|
For forty miles the word went out |
|
That he would someday drown us all |
|
Deep inside this vodka clear |
|
But if I lose then I don't care |
|
As long as I get good and gone |
|
Let the anvil break |
|
Steal door lies into a whisper |
|
Now who can wait for the perfect fit |
|
I'm hearing the anvil sing |
|
I'm hearing the anvil sing |
|
Let the anvil break |
|
Steal door lies into a whisper |
|
This is demolition time |
|
And if I lose, well I don't care |
|
I'm hearing the anvil sing |
|
I'm hearing the anvil sing |
