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(In The Wake Of) The Swollen Goat
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1
No horizon is obscured by the clouds. Settlements make nary a sound.
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And there were black birds singing and fish floating on the sea.
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While the bells of the buoys all rang in harmony.
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Bury your treasure, burn your crops,
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Black water rising and it ain't gonna stop.
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The governor he been long gone, anchor dropped on his front lawn.
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Build a keep and dig a moat, the return of the Swollen Goat.
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Can you hear the fife and drums, barnacles barking at the sun.
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Ain't no chance, so don't you try, now everybody got to die.
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Bury your treasure, burn your crops,
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Black water rising and it ain't gonna stop.
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WE DO NOT DESIRE TRIBUTES.
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WE DESIRE INFORMATION.
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WE SEEK THE WORM DRINK WHO HAS LATELY BETRAYED HIS NATION
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Albatross on your neck and a hooker on the shore,
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Dog-men to the deck, there's a hooker on the
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IN THE WAKE OF THE SWOLLEN GOAT
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Bury your treasure, burn your crops,
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Black water rising and it ain't gonna stop.
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