Low Pop Suicide - Philo's Song lyrics

The twisting of God's nerves And the laughing gas face And a world relied on Cannot save me a place Extinct from the ocean And s**ing, like lambs, On air too thick... I'm nervously hanging... Still magically here I'm comfortably worried That we've poisoned the well... We all share the ground And the food we eat And the nails we hang from... Have been kept clean... I hate to confess... But the rats won the race And in all this confusion... We, nervously, somehow, Emptied our plates And it's a wonder that anything Turns us on at all... I'm nervously hanging... Still magically here And, stupidly, somehow, Just singing along... You've once heard the notion The whales must be saved Well, build them a theme park, And teach them to beg Down by the black pond All tired and still The birds have gathered They magically circle Carefully, though, I'm certain they've noticed... We've poisoned the well And I'm patiently hanging... From a delicate bough And it's a wonder that anything Still shocks me at all...