Old Media - Horse Feathers

To the news that was ripe with disease

It’s a sickness to say what they please

As the sycophants tire of their worthless wind

And realize they’re plot’s far too thin

As they vye for the right side of an aisle

With the black and white thoughts of a child

Saying

She merely is

And he must become

They’re wasting our time

Talking off their tongues

And seen on a screen

Our life as we know

It’s cool as it comes

And feels ten below

Couldn’t find the forest for the trees

To the heart of the matter I mean

As we bruise with the thinnest type of skin

Do their pictures or words do us in?

As they vye for right side of an aisle

With the black and white thoughts of a child

Saying

She merely is

And he must become

They’re wasting our time

Talking off their tongues

And seen on a screen

Our life as we know

It’s cool as it comes

And feels ten below

Couldn’t find the forest for the trees

To the heart of the matter I mean

It’s the deepest and darkest of seas

It’s the distance between you and me

It’s cool as it comes and feels ten below

It’s cool as it comes and feels ten below

It’s the news that was ripe with disease

It’s a sickness to say what they please

It’s the deepest and darkest of seas

It’s the distance between you and me