54-40 Sound Of Truth Lyrics

Sound Of Truth Lyrics

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 bloody 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