Immaculate Fools Good Times
There's a man at ten
Who couldn't make a three
He's got blood on his hands
And blood on his sheets
He know's what's good
For you and me
His hands are washed
But never clean
Good times
Never been so bad
Of rich men's things
Poor men dream
But greed is a prison
You never break free
There's a hole in my sky
And shit in my sea
The earth is bleeding
Beneath my feet
Good times
Never been so bad
You fire your arrows
You don't care where they land
Turn my world
To dust and sand
Where's the captain
Where's his band
Of cut throat thugs
We want them hanged
Truth and justice
All wrapped up in rag
The jokes on us
We've all been had
Good times
Never been so bad
