54 40 - sound of truth lyrics
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some kind of order is what we’re after
the sound of truth doesn’t matter any more,
happy poor
there is a trick some kind of lure
no means of knowing sure anymore,
happy poor
there’s only me and some of you
everyday we lose a few planned phrases
that keep us cool
a pair of friends we have to eat
you and i will always be chasing
a carrot with bl–dy feet
i’m sick and tired of all the people
don’t you know there are no equals anywhere,
never were
stop think for a second
don’t ask dumb questions anymore,
happy poor
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