Lyrics: Doya Beardmore
Music: Doya Beardmore
Pray, pray, pray, God.
God shines new slogans
Gold coating, new testament, don't quote me
Can't stand up to the wet look, no loose ends in the good book
5, 4, 3, 2-2-2, hope for an avenue
Brown suede, Florsheim, pinstripe-mighty finestyle if you're lying
Great form: dead eyes, structured gaslighting
Black dead pixels, hide all the ugly black dead powers, past / present / would be
Worn out wind sail seeks keen rudder
Your hair's my hair
And god shone slang, and we can't distill
By all means necessarily blood spills
New tenements, Young Pony in tow
'97 over again: the money wind blows
New flock gather, Old folk dither, Young love meets at the bank of the river
Great new Windrush through my gutter
Your hair's my hair - Same eye colour
Don't send your prayers here no more.