Besedila: Golden Smog. Another Fine Day. Gone.

Well, I saw you at the station
It was after the election
Down cast they would call him
Your behavior was a poem

At the feet of blessed
Your hate burned my hand
Are you happy where you are?

Well, I knew that it was over
When the crowd began standing
You were driving, we were swerving
In the feathers began burning

From the mountains to the desert
I searched but you were gone
Are you happy where you are?
Are you happy where you are?

And all the hours upon that everyone consume
Could not arrest the void of him to hers
Him to hers, silent too

Your priest who is praying
In the cold moon was laying
The drunkard, he was drinking
And the young boy, he was thinking

For the first time in a long time
You felt hurt she died
Are you happy where you are?
Are you happy where you are?

And all the alcohol that everyone consumed
Could not arrest the boy who trots around the wound
Don't look behind the face to see the faith is gone
You know that's only wise for everyone, everyone, oh, gone

Well, I saw you at the station
It was after the election
Down tribe they would call him
Your behavior was so sad

At the feet of altar
Your hate burned my hand
Are you happy where you are?
Are you happy where you are?