The Race Is About to Begin ​black midi

[Verse 1]
Idiots are infinite
And thinking men are numbered
Don't kid yourself
This isn't news

[Verse 2]
Let's start with Tristan Bongo, alone at the race
Conscription calling his name
One more night of freedom
And an heiress high up atop the stands

[Verse 3]
And the lines are open
That's Lucky Star, Eye Sore, Doctor Murphy, Sun Tzu, The Clap, Mr. Winner, Spot, Wallace, Mrs. Gonorrhoea, Perfect P, Deadman Walking, and The Company Favourite
A son hands dad's hard earned cash to the clerk
And she laughs at the gall of the small guido lips
"Put it all on Spot, the kid's already won"
John-Tilеs smeared with last nights beer
Reflеct vomiting Chris who dreams his dream is near
In the form of Mrs. Gonorrhea

[Verse 4]
Reporter reporting the state of affairs
Inwardly asks of his prime time hair
Why it can't quite rival the manes on these mares
The smoothness can't compare
The gleaming appliances attract attention
The raffle prizes too many to mention
Displayed all over the stadium entrance