|
One final trip on to the coast |
|
To see the sea, and its host |
|
I had to stop my lips from making |
|
The most of foreign sounds |
|
With one road in and one road out |
|
I never thought to pray for drought |
|
But even if I did |
|
I?d be talking to bones in the ground |
|
Because you?re just a myth |
|
And the chance you?ve killed the choir |
|
And the boy set him self on fire |
|
Come on youth, don?t give in |
|
Like the very last bowling pin |
|
Do you love to regret, |
|
Or forgive and forget? |
|
If you?re going to forget it all |
|
Cold is comfort |
|
Comfort is cold |
|
This is cold |
|
Fade back into the wallpaper |
|
And think about |
|
What you?ve done to her |
|
Don?t cry yourself to sleep now |
|
It?s a reaction at least |
|
These satellites don?t care for subtle moves |
|
As we push through knee-high waste seafood |
|
Picking up silver and gold |
|
From some flooded trophy room |
|
And you?re just a myth |
|
And the chance you?ve killed the choir |
|
And the boy set him self on fire |
|
Come on youth, don?t give in |
|
Like the very last bowling pin |
|
Do you love to regret, |
|
Or forgive and forget? |
|
If you?re going to forget it all |
|
Cold is comfort |
|
Comfort is cold |
|
Yes it?s cold |
|
Oh it?s cold |
|
Yes it?s cold |
