| There’s a dead canary in the coal mine
|
| And a lamb’s head growing from a grapevine
|
| There’s an old man laughing in the backyard
|
| Catching crooks and crickets in the bell jar
|
| I’ve been waiting for my woman to relieve me
|
| But she’s outside climbing on the oak tree
|
| There’s a dead canary in the coal mine
|
| And a lamb’s head growing from a grapevine
|
| Growing from a grapevine
|
| Yea-ah, it’s getting biblical now
|
| (wo-oah)
|
| You better pick your weapons up
|
| And throw your mercy down
|
| Yea-ah, it’s getting mythical now
|
| (wo-oah)
|
| You better pick your weapons up
|
| And throw your mercy, throw your mercy down
|
| Throw your mercy down
|
| There’s a mad-man tapping at the window
|
| With a pocket full of innuendo
|
| There’s a joker poking at the doorbell
|
| And a sparrow drowning in the inkwell
|
| I’ve been waiting for my lover to relieve me
|
| But they’re outside swinging from the oak tree
|
| Swinging from the oak tree
|
| Yeah, it’s getting biblical now
|
| (wo-oah)
|
| You better pick your weapons up
|
| And throw your mercy down
|
| Yeah, it’s getting mythical now
|
| (wo-oah)
|
| You better pick your weapons up
|
| And throw your mercy, throw your mercy down
|
| There’s a tyrant on the throne
|
| And a clown on every screen
|
| Compelling us to stay at home
|
| In this low-grade fever dream
|
| But we’re gathering our strength
|
| We’re becoming less afraid
|
| That there’s hope for us in
|
| This unholy mess we’ve made
|
| Hey! |
| It’s getting biblical now
|
| (wo-oah)
|
| You better pick your weapons up
|
| And throw your mercy down
|
| Yeah, it’s getting mythical now
|
| (wo-oah)
|
| You better pick your weapons up
|
| And throw your mercy, throw your mercy down
|
| It’s getting biblical now
|
| (wo-oah)
|
| You better pick your weapons up
|
| And throw your mercy down
|
| Yeah, it’s getting mythical now
|
| (wo-oah)
|
| You better pick your weapons up
|
| And throw your mercy, throw your mercy down
|
| Throw your mercy down |