|
explosions are over the moment they happen |
|
the slow burn is better, though half as dramatic |
|
do'nt act as if you've lit the places i've travled |
|
i've seen your dynamite it's more like scented candles |
|
clear clear clear |
|
here agaisnt your chest i'm listening |
|
clear clear clear |
|
finding no signs that a rhythm ever lived here |
|
a cavity of cob webs |
|
still mouthing the language while i'm closing your eyelids |
|
another house burned to ash |
|
another tennent packed the attic |
|
with news of days passed |
|
oily rags they couldn't part with |
|
explosions are over and everyone is older |
|
ryan is driving and had a couple cold ones |
|
i memorized the roads, i do it eyes closed |
|
i'm taking you home |
|
clear clear clear |
|
you're finally seeing |
|
clear clear clear |
|
in the ambulence ceiling |
|
you win, though they suck of the feeling |
|
till they know your hands are off the wheel |
|
i'm so sick of dead bodies |
|
who want to be backseat drivers |
|
get back in the crowd |
|
who wants to live |
|
who wants to shake |
|
who won't survive |
|
who wants a drive-by |
|
we won't forgive |
|
we'll drag the lake |
|
we'll drain the sky |
|
(we're sorry) |
