1. Behind the cool bastion of her West Coast ways, Laurel feeds on wheatgrass: another new craze.
Behind the portcullis of her tombstone smile she lives dog eat dog, California style.
But here’s one sleeping hound she can’t let lie, he’ll come sniffing ‘round, by and by.
On the scent of bodies that lie to themselves, grasping at potions on pharmacy shelves.
2. When Dan’s on a roll, oligarch style, leading Mammon’s armies around the square mile,
He’ll hedge all his bets with your money at stake, ‘come out smelling like roses though he’s on the take.
But now comes his time, plausibility’s thin. His prospectus, his life, nothing therein.
The audit uncovers the flaw in his plan: no forecast at all, he’s a desperate man.
Chorus: It’s no good running from The Reaper;
He’ll come and find you, that’s no lie.
You just can’t reason with The Reaper.
And when you meet him, you’ll know why.
3. When the time arrives and you meet Joe Black, make sure that you can both look back.
Show him what life gave you freedom to do, how you used all that power, it didn’t use you.
Your heritage serves as a fine epilogue, you judge yourself worthy facing your God.
The Reaper will smile and take your cold hand and thank you for the help in executing his plan.
Chorus: It’s no good running from The Reaper;
He’ll come and find you, you can’t hide.
His task is old as creation,
And he’ll push your feeble pleas aside.
So what’s the point I hear you asking, of a life that’s given for the taking?
Why shouldn’t we take what we can? Forget others and don’t give a damn?
Chorus: GUITAR SOLO
Chorus: It’s no good running from The Reaper;
He’ll come and find you, that’s no lie.
You just can’t reason with The Reaper.
And when you meet him, you’ll know why.
