Happy (God’s Own Country)

I came out feet first and dancing

Pause for the round of applause

I came up grasping for greatness

A coffin in search of the 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, but 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

'Cause this is God's own country

But I'm 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