Tin soldiers are frozen
In the heave of grenades
And politicians are chosen
By the genuine smile on their faces
And war trophy bouillabases
And in the thick of a mischief
The clock has a hundred hands
And the ancient wisdom of misfits
Can't tell you any better than I can
Like a war plan written in shorthand
Selah, selah
Selah, selah
Selah, selah
Crack a bottle of bogus
And take a swig of defeat
And try to act like you know this
And check the yes box if you like me
Even if you think it's unlikely
And when the ballots are counted
And all the ballads composed
And all the trumpets are sound
Well we can just agree they were chosen
Like a love note written in Morse code
Selah, selah
Selah, selah
Selah, selah
And in the thick of a mischief
The clock has a hundred hands
And the ancient wisdom of misfits
Can't tell you any better than I can
Like a war plan written in shorthand