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