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lyrics
Our churches lie in ruin, burnt now to a crisp
We’d have burnt them down ourselves, for the insurance tip
The temporary tattoo parlor on whyte avenue and 99th street
The vending machines, counterfeit jeans,
the office of questionable but sexy tweets
Everything is gone, only one thing remains
Our beloved Spruce Moose One, the speedy getaway PLANE
Long syllable thing
Just staying alive
Run to survive
The CRA’s robot army’s arrived
Bureaucrats
Wish for us to die,
We get in the plane,
And race up to the sky
This loss it ain’t the end
The Spruce Moose will rise again
This loss it ain’t the end
Don’t care who complains
They’ll take our super cocaine
But can’t take our aeroplane
This loss it ain’t the end
Don’t care who complains
Pita'd against the wall
Wrapped up inside it all
The sweet sauce of victory
Did not lettuce see clearly
Tomate oh what a waste
On’ionder all post haste
So lest we meat defeat
We shall escape this beef
Extinguisher of stars, who art currently in Panama,
None ov the empty gods shall stand before our shareholders,
Drain dollars ov Styx, grant me revenge!
This loss it ain’t the end
The Spruce Moose will rise again
This loss it ain’t the end
Don’t care who complains
They can take our super cocaine
But they can’t take our aeroplane
This loss it ain’t the end
Don’t care who complains