Working on the statement of fact
That life is so beautiful
We all must disown
And stain people with our pale grey sight
When men and asphalt are just like one

We've got all on the tarred felt
Macadam's the gist of tomorrow

Infected with positivism
They corrupt with hope
But we know the ropes
We proclaim ourselves sons of bitumen
Pleased to reap what your concrete has down

[Chorus]

Now we can hand down a world we claimed...

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