I was once a person, a perfectly crafted invention
At least that’s how the story gets told
Now I’m a free wheeling son of a gun
I feel the river run cold
Clean up my kitchen 
Throw out the food 
Ignore the awful decor in the room
We can repaint when the weather is warm
Oh what can’t be saved once the weather is warm?
And we knock the keystones loose
But the arches remain
And this place has no excuse
Now it’s asked us to carry the blame
What can be bought for pennies on dollars
Summon our finest of financial scholars
Have them compose a most beautiful corpse
Silver and gold show the dead no remorse
And now watch as the arches come down
Oh that marble calamity
I had envisioned it differently
I saw the death of my enemy
Oh the pilots stay stuck in the sky
When the planes all forget how to fly
When the markets back home take a dive
Then we can all sell off our piece of the pie
It’s a miracle we’re still alive
It’s a miracle we just won’t die
It’s a miracle we can be here 
Until the arches get wise










A song I wrote yesterday called ‘Arches’. Experimenting with less traditional folk punk musicality; very rough draft but let me know what you think! -АНАРХИПОВ