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Now its time to wrap our fears in the night |
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And on the first day we'll dress this city in flames |
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After all the things you say |
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You hate me for being this way |
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Still you won't let go of old ideals |
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There is no headline to read at night |
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When the record slips and you're not holding the needle |
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We all sing the songs of separation |
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And we watch our lives bleed out through our hands |
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Thats how it was on the first day |
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We saw Paris in Flames |
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I think it's going to rain, rain down |
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Here in this collapsed lung of a borough |
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There is no sunlight |
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The sunlight is manufactured in a windowless room |
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Distant and incoherent |
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Businessmen hang themselves |
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The lower cast side is a jukebox playing the deadman's crescendo |
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The needle is a vector |
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An intersection that well all must cross |
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A dimly lit hallway where shadows of moths decorate the walls |
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Discard this message |
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Burn this city down |
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Discard this message |
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Throw this bottle back in the ocean |
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Rip this page from the history books |
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Smash all the street signs |
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Erase all the maps |
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Forget my name |
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Forget my face |
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Because it's going to rain |
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And it never ends |
