Songwriters: Ottewell, Benjamin Joseph; Peacock, Oliver James; Blackburn, Paul; Ball, Ian Thomas; Gray, Thomas William
The first words that came could've been more inspired
You must be hungry or tired or frozen
So put up your feet, throw some coal on the fire
And weave us a tale of delight
So we sit in our gun and we wait for our turn
We'll be waiting all of the night
So we sit in our gun and we wait for our turn
We'll be waiting all of our lives
We're all to blame
We hide away
Let's take the sand from this bottomless pit
It's hell to pay
So run away
Destroy on command all who came and then quit
It's been carefully planned by the ones you won't see
Send out the monkeys, they come out of the bushes
To piss in the punch and then smash up the decks
It's your party, we're all obliged
So we sit in our gun and we wait for our turn
I think you hurt him, there's blood on the floor
So we sit in our gun, can I ask what you're on
If you made it there's hope for us all
We're all to blame
We hide away
Let's take the sand from this bottomless pit
There's hell to pay
So run away
Destroy on command all who came and then quit
You're all the same
So hide away
Let's steal the sand from this bottomless pit
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