| Might fall in love, but its dead tonight
|
| Gonna make it right
|
| Feel your lungs get tight
|
| Blankets and sheets can’t hold the heat
|
| Hearts will barely beat on these easy streets
|
| One, Two
|
| Can’t see straight but you’re breakin' on through
|
| Three, Four
|
| Losing your touch on the bathroom floor
|
| All your life has been a cryin' shame
|
| Nobody’s gonna know your name
|
| We all want someone to love
|
| Early morning, everybody feels unholy
|
| Livin' with plastic souls, we are
|
| Backseat lovers jumping out the window
|
| The sun’s up soon
|
| Its gonna back hand the moon
|
| And, the song of the sorry I your signature tune
|
| Breaking apart, we wait for the dark
|
| As the cries of mercy extinguish the spark
|
| One, Two
|
| Can’t see straight but you’re breakin' on through
|
| Three, Four
|
| Losing your touch on the bathroom floor
|
| And so we bury ourselves to the neck, in cement
|
| Of numbers, and letters and flesh we repent
|
| And the bastards (the slime) get rich and decay…
|
| As they shake for a drug, at the start of their day
|
| And I suppose its been proven
|
| That satellites watch our every move.
|
| Tape machines on public corners
|
| 1's and 0's breathing for us
|
| But ask anyone in a falling elevator
|
| Does the steel and the mirror, and the glass make it clearer?
|
| All your life has been a cryin' shame
|
| Nobody’s gonna know your name
|
| We all want someone to love
|
| Early morning, everybody feels unholy
|
| Livin' with plastic souls, we are
|
| Backseat lovers jumping out the window |