Hamilton
Joanna Syme, Tom Iansek
It's the time of the year when the morning keeps you under the sheets
It's the time of the year when the darkness is falling with a fake
In a moment we will all be just a bright spark
Forgetting all our memories in place for an endless dark
And I can't believe you think money
Will save yourself from all that's coming your way
If the coffee gets cold put it in a hole and call out my name
Push the people aside, mishear and let the maker take the blame
Oh these cardboard, mystical, heaven-held sources of gold
Foreign mister calls my name hear it back on the radio
And I can't believe you think money
Will save yourself from all that's coming
The future won't remember kindly
Your kids will hate you, your wives will leave you this way