There's a silver rail 
And a rusty nail
To hang her tired dreams on.
And the silver planes
Flying low again 
????? in superstition
The bricks start to fall like so...
So many teeth.
The bricks start to fall like so…
Many teeth.
The hole in the wall leads clear down to the sea.
And all your silver rails
And your rusty nails
Can't hold your tired dreams now.
And the silver planes will fly low again,
Still steamed in superstition.
The bricks start to fall like so…
So many teeth.
The bricks start to fall like so…
Many teeth.
The hole in the wall leads clear down to the sea.