It's not your promises that I don't respect,
They're cold comfort when I'm wrecked, reaching blindly out for you,
Heard it said least a thousand times before: just keep knocking at the door of opportunity.

I'm the weak one now, and I don't need your sacred cows,
It's hard to drink the dreams, mingled ashes and the might-have-beens,
Kill the spirit, sell the flesh,
We amuse ourselves to death,
Holy words on baited breath lose their meaning in the 20th century - shut up.

And I'm the weak one now, and I don't need your sacred cows,
It's hard to drink the dreams, mingled ashes and the might-have-beens,
Kill the spirit, sell the flesh,
We amuse ourselves to death,
Holy words on baited breath lose their meaning in the 20th century - shut up.

Gold has lost it's lustre and the silver becomes dull,
Once I used to run with joy, now I can barely crawl
Like to help you, brother,
I've washed my hands and dried,
The steely blade of science never hypnotised me once.

And I'm the weak one now, and I don't need your sacred cows,
But it's hard to drink the dreams, mingled ashes and the might-have-beens,
Kill the spirit, sell the flesh,
We amuse ourselves to death,
Holy words on baited breath lose their meaning in the 20th century.

Lose their meaning, lose their meaning,
Lose their meaning, lose their meaning,
Lose their meaning, lose their meaning,
Lose their meaning, yeah.