Dead Confederate Semi-thought
I can’t hear you when you talk
You’re a muted, semi-thought
Going down… down, down, down…
Can’t express what can’t be bought
Can’t express in written thought
Going down… down, down, down…
Far along we’ve come alone
Throwing sticks will bring you stones
Going down, going
So afraid of all your faults
Just a critic without heart
Going down… down, down, down…
