It turns out the chic inherited the Earth
They sold it off for less than half of what it’s worth
And now the last ship out of here has no berths
The silent majority has been left standing in the surf
Now they’ll use their voices
To scold themselves for their choices
It always feels good to fill up your glass
Maybe one of these days I can make mine last
I spent 40 days in the desert in case anyone asks
It’s the done thing if you don’t have a podcast
And though I saw him, he held no riches
Or so it says so in the scriptures
You know that he might rise again
And walk the bombed out streets of Bethlehem
The cauldron boils from the hatred of men
Who say their life is so precious yet freely condemn
The souls of children into the abyss
As he looks down from his crucifix