Hard Times

Hard Times

William Patrick Corgan

Scream like jets off to Orion, as drone bless 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
It’s what fates, it feeds the toil of fallen men
A buy-in sweeps limb-from-limb
It’s plucked by poison quill, but don’t stand still

It’s hard, hard times
It’s hard times

Fear thee not, hands of a maker and chairmen guilt sobs
But still loyal meat for the satyrs
Its hard times, is what you’ve got

Its hard times
Hard times
Its hard times
Hard times

Soon, the only gentle voice you’ll hear
Is one you cannot know to fear
The kindest cut draws blood from filth
It’s what fates, it feeds the toil of fallen men
A buy-in sweeps limb-from-limb
It’s plucked by poison quill, but don’t stand still

It’s hard, hard times
It’s hard, hard times
It’s hard times

Hard Times

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