Three years ago I said The West is dying right underneath my nose And I'll be so glad when it finally goes I hate to say I told you so The West is dead
A sick pod of dolphins lap at the tide The West is dead, flipper Two drowned dogs float belly side up The West is dead Two girls spin around a mobius strip club The West is dead, girls Football fans with their heads in their hands The West is dead And the insects that you filter in the swimming pool each morning Are really the likes of us I am the West And the West is dead And I have danced on its grave For six days straight
The Dalai Lama wore Dolce & Gabanna in vermilion red And the West is dead CEOs hang themselves by their neckties And the West is dead When I looked inside myself I found the dream of a lifeless glass desert And all of this is lovely graspable And all of this is pure pollution to the cosmos I am the West And the West is dead And there will be no resurrection No direction Another lost erection Signals the West is dead
The apocalypse will be so compassionate Tenderness is filled with end The West is dead West is dead The West is dead The West is dead The West is dead The West is dead The West is dead The West is dead The West is dead
Compositores: James Michael Donovan (J Donovan), Gianluca Buccellati, Henry Anton Chisholm (Henry Spychalski), Nicolas David Raphael Mohnblatt (Nico Hmltd), Duc Peterman (Duc Hmltd), Achilleas Sarantaris (Achilleas Hmltd) ECAD: Obra #26020532