| The last man standing in our sinister charade
|
| beneath the crumbling arches of our counterfeit arcade
|
| He nobly knelt before us
|
| He sang our savior’s We left him spinning bloody plates
|
| Upon his broken blade
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| We do what we must to get by
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| The weak and the weary will never survive
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| We do what we must to stay alive
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| We’ll all be the weak and the weary some time
|
| One woman whistling a wounded lullaby
|
| And preaching pain to every unsuspecting passerby
|
| We knew her well before this
|
| She promised portraits of us
|
| We cut her throat While she waiting for the paint to dry
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| We do what we must to get by
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| The weak and the weary will never survive
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| We do what we must to stay alive
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| We’ll all be the weak and the weary some time
|
| And in the distance we’ll here melancholy moans
|
| The long forgotten have a habit of collecting loans
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| We do what we must to get by
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| The weak and the weary will never survive
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| We do what we must to stay alive
|
| That’s just the weight of the world
|
| We’ll all be the weak and the weary some time |