Dovahkiin-The Indelicates

There'll be no songs about you Your deeds will remain untold The words that they use Leave you limp and confused And resigned to grow silently old You could handle a weapon You could lay down your life in a war But you're fat now and weakened By the code that they speak in Not welcome in this land no more But put on your shoes The fair lands are calling For the last man To fall toward them From the sun You've got boring unlovely depression It blunts you and hobbles your will It makes you feel sick To see these beautiful pricks Build careers being beautifully ill They flit and they flutter about you They're offended and never ashamed And everything's s**t And this s**thole called britain Takes your sickness in place of your name But put on your shoes The fair lands are calling For the last man To fall toward them From the sun Put on your shoes Leave no letters behind you Leave the perfume And the dancing And run And I know it seems like there's no one And the street's too sweet to walk on And you'll break it with your boots if you go And I know it seems like there's no one And if there is Then you don't know them But I swear that there's someone Somewhere Someone