Black Art Number One

What a [bad word] this world 
What a difficult feeling 
To have swift right hand 
And never have the left to cover the bleeding 

I know, but you know, why let the feeling / show it son 
I know, but you know why let it go? So? 

Please you got to give us more time 
My god it's the end of the world 

Set phasers to stun 
At the heart of the sun 
With an ice pick raised 
In an arc over what we've done 

I know, but you know, why let the feeling / show it son 
I know, but you know why let it go? So? 

Please you got to give us more time 
My god it's the end of the world 

Put my hopes beside the river, lay them down, let the water hold them under 

Please you got to give us more time 
My god it's the end of the world