| [00:07.25] |
An address to the golden door |
| [00:10.34] |
I was strumming on a stone again |
| [00:13.63] |
Pulling teeth from the pimps of gore |
| [00:16.19] |
When hatched a tragic opera in my mind |
| [00:20.18] |
And it told of a new design in which every soul is duty bound |
| [00:26.57] |
To uphold all the statutes of boredom |
| [00:31.26] |
Therein lies the fatal flaw of the red age |
| [00:33.83] |
Because it was nothing like we'd ever dreamt |
| [00:35.94] |
Or lust for life had gone away with the rent we hated |
| [00:39.38] |
And becase it made no money |
| [00:41.52] |
Nobody saved no one's life this time |
| [00:47.65] |
So we burned all our uniforms |
| [00:50.96] |
And let nature take it's course again |
| [00:54.16] |
And the big onese just eat all the little ones |
| [00:57.31] |
That sends us back to the drawing board |
| [01:11.80] |
In my darkest hours |
| [01:14.75] |
We have all asked for some |
| [01:18.21] |
Angel to come |
| [01:21.39] |
Sprinkle his dust all around |
| [01:25.39] |
But all our crying voices they can't turn it around |
| [01:31.35] |
And you've had some crazy conversations of your own |
| [01:46.85] |
We've got rules and maps and guns in our backs |
| [01:50.09] |
But we still can't just behave ourselves |
| [01:53.87] |
Even if to save our own lives |
| [01:56.28] |
So says I: |
| [01:57.40] |
We are a brutal kind |
| [02:12.84] |
'Cause this is nothing like we'd ever dreamt |
| [02:15.57] |
Tell Sir Thomas More we've got another failed attempt |
| [02:19.16] |
'Cause if it makes them money |
| [02:20.99] |
They might just give you life this time |
