We need all our shit, like desperate junkies,
The blinkered authors of our own sorrow,
The materialistic king of the monkeys,
We know we must stop, but not 'til tomorrow
It can't carry on, this rate of consumption,
We know it, but fuck it, it's just one more day,
And don't rush to judge, don't make the assumption,
That you're any better, despite what you say.
We all know that our drug of choice is diminished,
We can all see the cost of our vicious addiction,
We've all heard them say that our world's nearly finished,
But we crave one more day, so treat science as fiction.
And just like the tragic narcotic dependant,
We don't want to listen to words that might spoil,
Or make it feel anything less than transcendent,
The rush that we get from money and oil.
So just one more hit, one more day on the good stuff,
Tomorrow we'll stop, we know it's obscene,
We'll master our craving for cash and the black stuff,
We promise, tomorrow, we swear we'll go clean.