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When the world gets dizzy, from spinning around, |
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Gravity gets tired of holding everything down. |
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When the foul prick of time's unraveling like twine, |
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When all roads lead to Rome and there're no words left to rhyme, |
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We'll make caves from our bones and make shoes from our skin, |
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And we'll try to pretend that this world was made for men. |
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Every tree's pressed into money. Everything tastes the same. |
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Everyone agrees and everything has a name. |
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Fish have turned to frogs. The ocean is our cloud. |
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I remember how you looked walking barefoot through the crowd. |
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We'll make caves from our bones and make shoes from our skin, |
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And we'll try to pretend that this world was made for men. |
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Now nothing's left between us, besides blood and air, |
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and every last circle has been turned into a square. |
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There are no cigarettes in the pockets of your vest. |
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No more hellos or goodbyes, no more secrets to confess. |
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We'll make caves from our bones and make shoes from our skin |
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And we'll try to pretend that this world was made for men |
