Bastards

You can get anything that you want

In a particular array of styles

And you’re addicted to the photographs

But your subscription to the magazine is running out

You can keep everyone satisfied

By the choices that you make in life

And dressing to impress your neighbor

But our sun-dried bones all probably look the same

In the end we’re semi-permanent

With a low participation rate

No membership required to find yourself in someone else’s sad routine

I can’t help but get excited at

The possibility of other plans

So I'll write myself out of the contract

With the blood from my cut-up hands

From my hands

Maybe, when the tension’s overflowing

We'll take the scissors to the line

Kill ourselves and make a difference

Maybe, when you feel it all collapsing

There’s nothing left here to enjoy

I think we’re ready for the asteroid

You can feel anything you want

You can allow it with a shred of doubt

And you’re addicted to synthetic stimulation but the medicine is running out

And I’m feeling like I'm lost at sea

Through the abysses of infinity

And I’m terrified to fall asleep and find myself in someone else’s broken dreams

We should all go back to what we were

When everyone was worshipping the sun

And avoid success at any cost and have no idea what we should become

Or you can meet me in another world

Where we’re mesmerised at the design

We’ll never know, we’ll never know, we’ll never know what it is when it hits us from behind

From behind

Oh-ho-ho

Maybe, when the tension’s overflowing

We take the scissors to the line

Kill ourselves and make a difference

Maybe, when you feel it all collapsing

There’s nothing left here to enjoy

I think we’re ready for the asteroid

Maybe, if you speak to me more clearly

We wouldn’t need a new connection

Pick it up and find a better place to float away

And I’m begging for forgiveness

Lose my superstitious fears

And count the hours down from twenty-four to one

And I’m feeling pins and needles

Everything is seeming needless

Acupuncture all the evil things away

Wash your blood-stained hands in no man’s land

And it'll hit you like a wave

That we could always finish this another day