(Outro, Deep Male Vocals)
Ten sixths, ten shillings sixpence —
a price that looks like counting
but counts for nothing whole.
Ten sixths, ten shillings sixpence —
a price that looks like counting
but counts for nothing whole.
The smile that curves wrong.
Deception etched in teeth.
A dim-sense of something vast and wrong.
You’ll never truly know,
and that’s the only truth that holds.
The counting keeps its rhythm, cold, precise,
while something old thing grins behind the count.
A soul lost below,
mouth open, waiting for the final amount.