Next year is the year of the bitch. No one will get lucky, No one will get rich And we’ll be telling lies When we say we don’t know why We talk about this world as if it’s all in bits.
Next year is the year of the bitch. The panicking will peak at a piercing pitch And everyone will hate And obsess about their weight And waste away in want For the things that they once ditched.
Where were you when we changed our minds, Put our ideals on ice and our hearts into brine? Where were you when we fell? Where were you?
Next year is the year of the bitch. We’ll package up our lives And take them to the tips And sit back in our chairs, Assuming fancy airs, As it all falls round our ears, drip by drip.
People all just stood around Watering their lawns as the cities fell down; I could barely make out the time As the air turned to ash and the sea to slime.
Where were you when we changed our minds, Put our ideals on ice and our hearts into brine? Where were you when we fell? Where were you?
Next year is the year of the bitch. We’ll swallow all their lies Like hungry little chicks, Every consonant and vowel: Wretched, rank and foul, We’ll cling to every word Like tiny little ticks.
Where were you when we changed our minds, Put our ideals on ice and our hearts into brine? Where were you when we fell? Where were you when we lost ourselves? Where were you?