Someone said that if your agents
Come again at night
There might not be a single nation
Standing in the light

Now this was known by good Saint Nixon
And he knew the way
To loneliness, I must confess
I hated him
In his day

He told me of a pit
And it's way down below
It's full of stones
And under the stones are jars
But the jars are liquid
Of an unknown type
But it's black
Like tar is black
Black
But it's black like tar
Black!
Black!
Black!
Black!