Good Times - Immaculate Fools

There’s a man at ten

Who couldn’t make a three

He’s got blood on his hands

And blood on his sheets

He know’s what’s good

For you and me

His hands are washed

But never clean

Good times

Never been so bad

Of rich men’s things

Poor men dream

But greed is a prison

You never break free

There’s a hole in my sky

And shit in my sea

The earth is bleeding

Beneath my feet

Good times

Never been so bad

You fire your arrows

You don’t care where they land

Turn my world

To dust and sand

Where’s the captain

Where’s his band

Of cut throat thugs

We want them hanged

Truth and justice

All wrapped up in rag

The jokes on us

We’ve all been had

Good times

Never been so bad