Hard Times - William Patrick Corgan

Scream thy jets off to Orion

As drone blurs kin

And the hills sing prayers of America

It’s hard times we’re in

It’s hard times

It’s hard times

It’s hard times

It’s hard times

Soon the only gentle voice you’ll hear

Is one you cannot know to fear

The kindest cut draws blood from filth

As what fetes and feeds the toil of fallen men

Albion sweeps limb from limb

As plucked by poison quill

But don’t stand still

It’s hard, It’s hard times

It’s hard times

Fear thee not, hands of our maker

Enchantment guilds sop

First to war, you’re meat for the satyrs

Its hard times is what you’ve got

It’s hard times

Hard times

It’s hard times

Hard times

Soon, soon the only gentle voice you’ll hear

Is one you cannot know to fear

The kindest cut draws blood from filth

As what fetes and feeds the toil of fallen men

Albion sweeps limb from limb

As plucked by poison quill

But don’t stand still

It’s hard, hard times

It’s hard, hard times

It’s hard times