going to rain, rain down I think it's going to rain, rain down I think it's going to rain, rain down I think it's going to rain Here in this collapsed
Tuesday wakes up silent And there aren't enough pills to sleep (Cut out) Like a miswired shortwave radio It's over But nothing can change to make this
In this room I'm sitting by your side 'Cause it rains for hours and the phone is off its hook Standing on the edge, casting lot's to set me up Before
I will never even close my eyes) If the sun is on its way then we will never die And we'll follow these tracks to the sight Now the lungs collapse and
We'll all look the same someday And even now the robot starts to think I wonder what it dreams The Tide is high on Fourtheeth Street The rain comes
With fists raised high in tightened knots The room explodes and now this blood is on your hands And there is no time for a second chance To paint my
We'll all look the same someday And even now the robot starts to think I wonder what it dreams
Just ahead I see you winding up And you're dressing this Of color on the edge of fire Until these tightened strides They march in time again I don't
In this blackout, inertia will hold our thoughts And the exit sign offers no light to see by Can we cast our shadows alone in the dark? I can't see without
Let's call this the quiet city Where screams are felt as a wave of stoplights Drive through the streets as gunshots punctuate the night The sides we take
Write these words back down inside We have burned their villages And all the people in them died We adopt their customs and everything they say we steal
Splintered piece of glass Falls in the seat and gets caught Broken windows, open locks Reminders of the youth we lost In trying so hard to look away
In this blackout inertia will hold our thoughts And the exit sign offers no light to see by Can we cast our shadows alone in the dark? I can't see
Write these words back down inside We have burned their villages and all the people in them died We adopt their customs and everything they say we
With fists raised high in tightened knots The room explodes and now this blood is on your hands And there is no time for a second chance To paint
Let's call this the quiet city: Where screams are felt as a wave of stoplights Drive through the streets as gunshots punctuate the night The sides
