They're dragging the river tonight.
Edwardian men saw things they cant unsee.
The dream died with the last of the goats.
All we have left is bodies and shit.
Oh, where? Where to now?
Your best friends have thrown you frowns.
Your heart is full up, sagging down.
Your legacy is 12 stone of mud and waste.
Send Trongoat, make haste.
Send Trongoat, make haste.
And thus ends this tale.
No lessons learnt, no bridges left unburnt.
The dream died with the last of the goats.
All that's left is 12 songs and my voice, oh
Oh, where? Where to now?
Your best friends have thrown you frowns.
Your heart is full up, sagging down.
Your legacy is 12 stone of mud and waste.
Send Trongoat, make haste.
Send Trongoat, make haste.