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British Theatre
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Give a Man Enough Rope and He Will Hang Us All
Something's gotten lost
A translation of a daydream
Now the hollow's (hole is) healing
There's nothing left to kill
We should have set a fire
A foiled intervention
The final act and/in casting
You can play the dog
And we'll play the blood on your hands
Sobers all alone / sold us all alone/along
Watch(ed) the ship we built sink
But fair play, puppets, minions
Victors of our crisis
How bitter you've become
You rattle like a baby
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Give a man enough rope,
He will hang us all
We'd have this place surrounded
But everybody's gone now
Did you even know you've lost
And that there's nothing left to kill
Wash all the blood from your hands (laugh)
Tell me you were(n't) warned
That you deserve forgiveness
Tell me we don't owe you
But/that stay low (stable), golden silence while you give chase for more
But you can't win 'em all
You can't win 'em all, man
You can't win
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