[Intro] [The rhythmic clatter of a mechanical money counter loops turning into a sharp icy hi-hat beat] [A deep resonant bass synth hums like a vault door closing] Ka-ching... Ka-ching... Silence is expensive. Style is efficiency. We bought the sunrise in a hostile takeover. It was too bright anyway. [Verse 1] I am looking at the ledger that we carved into the surface of the bone It does not feel pity it does not feel heat It only calculates the profit in the middle of defeat We liquidated every asset breathing in the valley low It felt cleaner than a battle just a simple acquisition of the flow Fighting is so vulgar on the furniture my dear We prefer a polite catastrophe [Chorus] It's a Matter of Taste A superior diagnosis of the human waste If you have to ask the price you are in the wrong place Just a fraction of the cost The war was won but the soul was lost? No we leased it back Sit on the Razor Glass Throne We are the curators of the grand design And the bill comes due at the end of the line [Verse 2] The auditor was shaking in the boardroom just now Such a delicate little number sweating on the brow I said that mercy is just a product sold upon the shelf You have to purchase the right to even whisper to yourself I see the avalanche walking closer knocking at the gate An ancient gravity arriving to resolve the state But you cannot bribe a hurricane with platinum or with gold I think the portfolio is finally getting old [Bridge] [The beat drops out leaving only the sound of glass cracking and a high-pitched sine wave] Pour the vintage wine on the burning city A drink to the absence of all pity The market crashed and the elevator is stuck We ran out of time and we ran out of luck It tastes like smoke... and a beautiful lie [Chorus] It's a Matter of Taste A superior diagnosis of the human waste If you have to ask the price you are in the wrong place Just a fraction of the cost Sit on the Razor Glass Throne We are the curators of the grand design And the bill comes due at the end of the line [Outro] [The sound of a massive heavy landslide burying the beat] [Female voice remains calm and detached] The game is over and the brute has won. Whatever. Someone fetch me a very expensive drink. Check please. [Silence]
