You’ve been sure for two hundred centuries now.
On the mountain while a merchant pockets your gold.
Do you mind? Put your hand to the plough.

Was there a time when the water fattened the fold?
Or have you been shuttered and boarded up for that long?
Is the wine and the bread gathering mould?

Are you really what you think you are?
Do you guard the words but forget the song?
Fabulous muscles meant to move the world,
can barely move a mountain now.

Beat the dead horse with the stable door swinging wide.
All the best souls flinch to see its fragmented bones.
Can you find better gifts for the bride?

Are you really what you think you are?
Do you guard the word but forget the song?
Fabulous muscles meant to move the world,
can barely move a mountain now.

Tags: lyrics