We are waiting, we are waiting for the gravy train.
We found this black gold, in the depths of the river.
We turned over this black mud, with a twisted branch.
All my friends are gone in the wood, rushing gold with murder mood (don’t be fooled)
Everything resurrects from the soil, and in the mud we’re not boys or girls anymore.
(gold is murder mood) we don’t think (gold is murder mood) we don’t sing
(mud is where we stand) we can’t feel (mud is where we stand) cause
(gold is murder mood) we can’t breath (gold is murder mood) we can’t drink that
(mud in which we dig) we can’t think (cause mud is where we stand)