Let's descend through fog and rain And see if we can find a sane way out Of this small mess It's not as if we'll lose our lives Or be impaled with carving knives Just yet Or not unless We sign the dotted line So everything will turn out fine Let's just discard what makes us tick And act like we are really thick and slow Take pen in hand And sign the dotted line So everything will turn out fine And if it's not what appears to be We'll get down on our bended knees And lick the shit on which they stand Until it shines Let's go away to somewhere new Where people haven't got a clue And blend into the crowd And sign the dotted line So everything will turn out fine And if it's not what it's cracked up to be We'll oh so sycophantically Just smile and nod and be well-dressed For our decline