Let’s descend through fog and rain
And see if we can find the same way out
Of this whole mess
It’s not as if we’d lose our lives or
Be impaled by carving knives just yet
No not unless...
We sign the dotted line
So everything will turn out fine
Let’s just discard what makes us tick
And act as if we’re really thick and slow
Take pen in hand
And sign the dotted line
So everything will turn out fine
And if it’s not what it appears to be
We’ll get down on our bended knees
And lick the shit of which they stand
Until it shines
Let’s go away to somewhere new
Where people haven’t got a clue
And blend into the crowd
And sign the dotted line
So everything will turn out fine
And if it’s not what it’s cracked up to be
We’ll sit and sick sycophanticly
We’ll smile and nod and be well dressed
For our decline