Cheap As Art

They’re coming from the trees
It’s OK with me
They know (think) so they think they can be
They’re hideous, devout and second hand
God will help the one who helps himself
So, my days end in you
Angel of shame holds the key of night
The magic words are «fungus babies»
And my days end in you
Millenium of shame
Time for a fart
Someone help the lost souls
We did our best
All was done in vain
Who can fight creatures so profain?
So my days end in you
They’re coming from the trees
Now they smell of rotten leaves
And my days end in you
I said I’d other things to do
But I came running back to you
Looked deep inside
You can’t say deep
Unless you sleep
We could never be CHEAP AS ART