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This song goes out |
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To all the hopeless sinners |
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With grave allegiances |
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So meaningless and vain |
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The walking wounded |
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In a pageant of contenders |
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Who balance on a rail of pain |
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For just a pail of rain |
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And everything is barely mist |
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Blood relations and bricks |
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My expression, my confession, add it up |
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Extract a lesson more than this |
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Once again, like a bullet, as a friend |
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Tell me, can that be all there is? |
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In my rectory of doubt |
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I kneel to pray like one devout |
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As time the great gray dreamless sleep |
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Of a useless modern God |
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Erodes away, each storied day as |
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Quenched Adams, with hell to pay |
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Content upon a rail of pain |
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For just a little rain |
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And everything is dearly missed |
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Blood relations and bricks |
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My expression, my confession, add it up |
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Extract a lesson, more than this |
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Once again, like a bullet as a friend |
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Tell me, can that be all there is? |
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There's an endless disposition |
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And it doesn't mean a goddamn thing |
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There's space for a paper airplane race |
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In the eye of a hurricane |
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And if pigs could fly, then surely so could I |
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But this pedestrian knows better than to even try |
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And my divinity is caught between the colors of a butterfly |
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And everything is dearly missed |
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Blood relations and bricks |
|
My expression, my confession, add it up |
|
Extract duress and more than this |
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Once again, like a bullet, as a friend |
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Tell me, can that be all there is? |
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All there is? |
