do you think we re fools we know it won t be long til you drill a well and fall straight through the roof of hell and they lock you in a prison cell and leave the tale for you to tell you got no more soul to sell but oh well that s life so carve on with your wicked knife you re so strong you re so precise one day you ll learn to take your own advice and make your home in a prison cell and leave the tale for me to tell you got no more soul to sell and any place you place the blame the water tastes the same the sunlight hurts your eyes it s no surprise and anyone you chance to meet a stranger on the street they re bound to wonder why you run so dry you drink the tears from their eyes do you think we re fools we know it won t be long til you drill a well and fall straight through the roof of hell and they lock you in a prison cell and leave the tale for me to tell you got no more soul to sell