Happy (God’s Own Country)

I came out feet first and dancing
Pause for a round of applause
I came up grasping for greatness
A coffin in search of a corpse

A bad joke, but they keep on laughing
A bad story to tell
A bad lie, but the suit's okay
A bad debt, well, they sure won't pay it

So do what I say
Not what I do
Blood on their hands does not run blue

Wake up, the hammers are humming
The snails are out salting the Earth
Get out, where's everyone going?
This ship isn't sinking itself

A bad song, but they keep on dancing
A bad story to tell
A bad lie, but the suit's okay
A headline? Well, they sure won't say it

So do what I say
Not what I do
Blood on their hands does not run blue

Economists with bedside manners
Tax return, pop killer batches
Chipping Norton, doors on latches
Five-bed flat, pack Neo-Fascist
Kitchen surface, polished granite
The market's up in sunny Thanet
Incorporating calisthenics, cottagecore and market ethics
That Soho house alt-right aesthetic is taking over

But this is God's own country
But I am my own man
So if God don't want me?
Then God don't want me
I bet they hope those feet
In ancient times
Just kept on walking