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I might be dead, but I can still feel the shimmering tension |
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That hangs over my city, like a poisonous cloud |
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It's choking me and what's left of this burning town |
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Makes me wanna douse myself in kerosene |
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And I've been talking to ghosts lately that say |
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"This is the first day of the rest of our lives" |
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The first day of the rest of our lives |
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Through vast darkened skies |
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And into the arms of brothers from beyond |
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I stumbled upon clarity and so this is me |
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Raining on your parade |
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This is the first day of the rest of our lives |
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You think the wheels run smooth when oiled by bullshit |
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And a guided tour of Copenhagen never seemed this sad |
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So here's a fist, a knife and a handful of coffin nails |
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And I've been talking to ghosts lately that say |
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"This is the first day of the rest of our lives" |
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Of the rest of our lives |
