The Fatal Hour

Steve Kilbey/Gareth Koch

Appears On:

Lyrics (unofficial)

The fatal hour still sour in its cape
And fools come out to promenade around the holiday
And every silver son of a bitch keeps falling down
Under my head, over the town

And then the snakes speak
Said I wish I had a leg to break
And all of the crowd
Could appreciate their cake

For every one golden god
There are one billion lumps of clay
I'm back in the dirt
Well have a nice day