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Dead songs are drowning out voices of compassion with a sigh |
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"Alright?" Alright. |
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Deadlines are winding down |
|
Fatal clocks keep ticking off dead time |
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Nothing hurts, nothing moves, nothing stays |
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No one hopes and no one dreams |
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Nothing matters when the dead songs play |
|
Reject the death |
|
When all the color fades away, |
|
The world is black and white |
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Dead breath from TV sets fill the empty houses with a dead white light |
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It's no surprise |
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Dead checks, dead sex, |
|
Dead cigarettes flood the ambulance in the dead of night |
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Alright? Alright. |
|
Nothing hurts, nothing moves, nothing stays |
|
No one hopes and no one dreams |
|
Nothing matters when the dead songs play |
|
Reject the death |
|
When all the color fades away, |
|
The world is black and white |
|
There's a dead song on the audio tape |
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The strongest magnet couldn't wipe away |
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Singing, "It's alright." |
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But it's not alright |
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Then: pinpricks on the back of your neck |
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A little voice inside you says |
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"When you hear dead songs, don't sing along--let it die." |
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Lift your small voices up |
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And we'll stitch these cries into a choir |
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Our lonely notes form chords that the orchestra just can't divide |
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Alright. |
