The dust gets heavier
I’m digging for treasure
One foot in the grave is
Worth two in the nether
Cut the rose at the hilt
Bludgeon all that we built
Your time’s running out
And the birds fly the field

The birds fly the field
They’ll get you in the end
But I’m not here to make friends

I’m not here to make friends
Dead leaves are cut to make room
I’m not here to make friends
The weak survived by the few

I’m not here to make friends
Dead leaves are cut to make room
I’m not here to make friends
The weak survived by the few
I’m not here to make friends