| And all the animals will feel that in their cages
|
| It’ll mix with minerals, minerals and backbones
|
| To go home
|
| And reflect
|
| How they tore this building down
|
| You ask for more
|
| It’ll last past a century of soil
|
| Icarus will see it on his way up past the arrow
|
| And I understand now, it is a color
|
| These are the people, that I group together
|
| You pre-curse the letters
|
| And the postcard that you see
|
| My eyes are open
|
| Sliding your tongue across the paper
|
| Produces effects, that resemble weather
|
| That produces weapons
|
| And the postcards that you sent, my eyes are open
|
| And I understand now, it is a color
|
| These are the people, that I group together
|
| You pre-curse your letters
|
| And the postcards that you sent, my eyes are open and
|
| Dig a trench with megaphones, megaphones and pirates
|
| Everything will change when you pull this boat ashore
|
| Nothing more from you!
|
| Some are snakes
|
| Some are poisonous
|
| Well, you’ve given up life!
|
| Well, I give up mine!
|
| From wheels to motors
|
| From wheels to motors
|
| From wheels to motors
|
| From wheels to motors |