It's the time of the year when the morning keeps you under the sheets
It's the time of the year when the darkness is falling with a fake
In a moment we will all be just a bright spark
Forgetting all our memories in place for an endless dark

And I can't believe you think money
Will save yourself from all that's coming your way

If the coffee gets cold put it in a hole and call out my name
Push the people aside, mishear and let the maker take the blame
Oh these cardboard, mystical, heaven-held sources of gold
Foreign mister calls my name hear it back on the radio

And I can't believe you think money
Will save yourself from all that's coming
The future won't remember kindly
Your kids will hate you, your wives will leave you this way