Slayed - THE MOB

The desert stretches across the endless piles of sand

And the compass spins round, lodged somewhere in my hand

And while I’m searching through my soul

I found at last a waterhole

While I’m wading through bureaucratic piles of waste

Your putrid smell leaves a sweet distaste

And while I’m searching through my soul

I found at last a waterhole

The concrete towers erect jungle

Smashed up old park bench

The monuments of sweeter days

Upon them where your children play

Your children move, they’re puppets now

Destroying all your sacred cows

And while I’m searching through my soul

I found at last a waterhole