Lucian, I'm so tired of flesh and blood
My Lord is growing so vile
Shamefulness descends upon our shoulders
Kicking the corpse till the fun wears off

Bleeding septums in SW1
Talking Nietzsche till the sun comes up
Rich boys, they just need a hand
Or a hand down from Papa

Wouldn't it be too divine
A start, middle and an end?
Wouldn't it be too divine
If we could see a way out?

There's a blizzard in the after-hours bars
Raining my way down The Strand
Who are these fags in their red bow ties
Ruining it for the rest of us?

Self-content for the young
The younger set that history will always eat itself
Rich boys, they just need a hand
Or a good old-fashioned war

Wouldn't it be too divine
A start, middle and an end?
Wouldn't it be too divine
If we could see a way out?