|
there a world who's smiling face |
|
was spinning in circles out in space |
|
on the day that the architects |
|
have caused their plague of stone |
|
turn the ancient land to street |
|
spiral tower high defeats us |
|
bursting out, standing tall |
|
in lands we call our own |
|
burst the dams with tidal waves |
|
of twisting walls, each brick in place |
|
into the dizzy heights the chase |
|
but swaying in the wind |
|
tearing, clawing, burning down |
|
Psychotic Waltz |
|
mountains hammered to the ground |
|
building cities, building towns |
|
not an inch of land unturned |
|
still stand the eyes of all |
|
gazing to the skies |
|
breathless and still none the wise |
|
of what they've really done |
|
looking back to see the past |
|
they win the race yet finish last |
|
you suffer from the spell they've cast |
|
spiral tower standing high |
|
smashing all it passes by |
|
earth lies bleeding starts to cry |
|
no one cared to know |
|
money, greed sees falling trees |
|
found no cure for this disease |
|
nowhere left to go |
|
iron bars and bricks of stone |
|
have left the earth picked to the bone |
|
racing higher to the stars |
|
the architects arise |
|
shattering the sky |
|
to stand a thousand miles high |
|
as the shaking spiral tower |
|
starts to fall to their surprise |
|
burning are the eyes |
|
wider just to see the skies |
|
out of breath, none the wise |
|
of what they've really done |
|
a million light years from the past |
|
we're stepping forward, moving back |
|
there it falls to die |
|
to be born again |