Paper Chase The Small Of Your Back The Nape Of Your Neck (the Blizzard)
We're the stand-ins, we're the walkthroughs
We are the understudies in the side view
We will come to you then with your hats in our hands
Can we get an amen?
We are the bodies dumped in the forest
We are the the patients at the bottom of the donor list
We know spite never sleeps so we rinse and repeat
But we never get clean
We will scream out your name in the meadow
Wander the woods like we're Hansel and Gretel
'Cause God only knows how cold it's getting
And by his design he must know we're starving
Don't curse it don't work you'll be cursed for cursing
Don't hurt it don't work you'll be hurt for hurting
'Cause now our credits are rolling, the bells they are tolling
It's getting more colder it's apropos
I'm certain it's curtains, it's curtains for you and me
We're the sudden we're the random acts of what I can only call mayhem
We're not willing to change we're not willing to try
We're the "good enough guys"
When the ship comes in, he's gonna be there waving those bastards in
And when the votes get count, he'll be demanding the recount
And when the checks will clear, he's gonna be the pickpocket swatting at your rear
To the small of your back, the nape of your neck marks appear
God only knows how cold it's getting
And by his design he must know we're starving
Of course we won't help it won't help for helping
Of course it won't work we won't work for working
'Cause now our bodies we torture with hands from our suitors
Forever we're kicked up the ass by the future
I'm certain it's curtains, it's curtains for you and me
He's got the whole world in his hands
