You're the last of a breed and it's begining to stink
So you take to the clouds with your bible and drink
The proclaimation was made, the proclaimation was felt
There's a new notch in your belt
Very carefully you've protected your house
Now there's no getting out
It's too cold
It's too late
It's too far
There's a lovely house on a lovely street
There's a burning star but it's giving no heat
To the sting that was felt on the back of your hand
Now someone's lost command
Very secretly you've infected your house
Now there's no getting out
It's too cold
It's too late
It's too far
