In the outhouse of wits and noughts Thinking in afterthoughts I design to whine no more Pundits of present tense No cash or common sense Blame no souls but our own With no thought for the rising seas Never be well if you trust the rust of your teens Fend for your corners, a turn of hospital beds Live out your days in a maze of rich libertines As soon as the ringing gong Singing its ringing song It just rings til it's all wrung out Faster than a fox hunt, you're not your own master But your friends let you down With no thought for the rising seas Surrender yourself to the sleep of deep and green Breath your last breath as the barnacles s** on your eyes There's no one who will sink quite as fast as rich libertines (coda)