King of Piss and Paper - Wolf Parade

How can we sing about ourselves?

How can we sing about love?

How can we not sing about love?

How can we not sing about ourselves?

When the king is made of paper

And the king is made of piss

The king is coming down the fucking wall

I am a stranger to religion fear

I have no claim to the tears of the queer

But I know it keeps the blind man white cane near

The blind man keeps the white cane near

And now the king is made of paper

And the king is made of piss

The king is coming down the fucking wall

It was some self-fulfilling prophecy

And we just hung it up

Hung it up on the gossip tree

Saw a generation under me

Crying on the news

Oh, I guess they have the blues

Crying on the news

Oh, I guess they have the blues

How can you not sing about love?

How can we not sing about ourselves?

How can we, how can we sing about ourselves?

How can we sing, sing about love?

When the king is made of paper

And the king is made of piss

The king is coming down the fucking wall

And the king is walking away

But the king is not our forest

The king is coming down, down, down…

To kill us all