Sound of truth

Some Kind of Order Is What We're After
The Sound of Truth Doesn't Matter Any More,
Happy Poor
There Is a Trick Some Kind of Lure
No Means of Knowing Sure Anymore,
Happy Poor

There's Only Me and Some of You
Everyday We Lose a Few Planned Phrases
That Keep Us Cool
A Pair of Friends We Have to Eat
You and I Will Always Be Chasing
A Carrot With Bloody Feet

I'm Sick and Tired of All the People
Don't You Know There Are no Equals Anywhere,
Never Were
Stop Think For a Second
Don't Ask Dumb Questions Anymore,
Happy Poor