Slayed (The Mob)

The desert stretches across the endless piles of sand And the compass spins round, lodged somewhere in my hand And while I'm searching through my soul I found at last a waterhole While I'm wading through bureaucratic piles of waste Your putrid smell leaves a sweet distaste And while I'm searching through my soul I found at last a waterhole The concrete towers erect jungle Smashed up old park bench The monuments of sweeter days Upon them where your children play Your children move, they're puppets now Destroying all your sacred cows And while I'm searching through my soul I found at last a waterhole