The smell of sweat and soil
is a dead giveaway
They always need someone new
to fill another man's grave
My mind isn't racing
it's dull and I'm bored
And I'm not frustrated by
my case anymore
Just imagining my day on a hot island
I'm waiting for a second wave
To fill another nice grave
I'll never forget the sound
of all that wood in the ground
Doesn't matter where you're from
The worst is yet to come,
my hands are shaking
with anticipation,
waiting for a second wave
The sink is broken,
the more that I stay here
my fate is sealed
I'd rather take my chances
in the depths of the parlor's field
There's medicine in the sun on my back
And I'm much too busy
for a pan ic attack
When I'm dancing with the bones
on Hot Island
I'm waiting for a second wave
to fill another mass grave.
I'll never forget the sound
of all that wood in the ground.
It doesn't matter where you're from,
the worst is yet to come.
My hands are shaking
with anticipation
Waiting for a second wave
So put on your Sunday best,
the one -tenth of a weekly time
You can never be too prepared
for the next swing of the side
If you're all alone and your
body's strained
There's no one to claim
that you're in safe hands
With my prison skeleton crew
on Hot Island
I'm wait ing for a second wind
to fill another nice grave
I'll never forget the sound
of all that wood in the ground
Doesn't matter where you're from,
the worst is yet to come
My hands are shaking with anticipation,
waiting for a second Way