Happy (God’s Own Country)

I came out feet first and dancing Pause for a round of applause I came up grasping for greatness A coffin in search of a corpse A bad joke, but they keep on laughing A bad story to tell A bad lie, but the suit's okay A bad debt, well, they sure won't pay it So do what I say Not what I do Blood on their hands does not run blue Wake up, the hammers are humming The snails are out salting the Earth Get out, where's everyone going? This ship isn't sinking itself A bad song, but they keep on dancing A bad story to tell A bad lie, but the suit's okay A headline? Well, they sure won't say it So do what I say Not what I do Blood on their hands does not run blue Economists with bedside manners Tax return, pop killer batches Chipping Norton, doors on latches Five-bed flat, pack Neo-Fascist Kitchen surface, polished granite The market's up in sunny Thanet Incorporating calisthenics, cottagecore and market ethics That Soho house alt-right aesthetic is taking over But this is God's own country But I am my own man So if God don't want me? Then God don't want me I bet they hope those feet In ancient times Just kept on walking