i was fond of the old god hymns and blues i was salty of before you ever had to choose if you get sold come here and truth better shake my head and break her tooth i feel sorry for that old and happy news we make our beds and we sleep in them with no regrets outnumbered sheep marching on we ll be born again to be rose again come on let me in three s a crowd and two s good company yeah singing loud never was much use to me til i took up friends out for dance took up with all them alter hands who carry tombs instead of food in their bellies but marching on the saints go on more sounding off they re marching on off and on off and on someone should break that switch off you know we make our beds and we sleep in them with no regrets outnumbered keep marching on we ll be born again to be rose again now no no no no we are old souls you push i ll pull we mapped our stars bleeding thought you rode them well i sold the sails on the only ship we re sinking in the sun is shining the wolves played dead those sheep are smiling big under their white wool wigs leave your heart out of such a mess we re doing fine i guess i m doing fine we guess  we make our beds and we sleep in them with no regrets we ll count our sheep and dreaming of our unweaving start waiting for the one we make our beds and we sleep in them with no regrets outnumbered sheep marching on we ll be born again to be rose again now no no no no we are old souls you push i ll pull we mapped our stars bleeding thought you rode them well i sold the sails on the only ship we re sinking in