| All this talking, you’d think I’d have something to say
|
| But I’m just talking like a sirens getting louder and farther away
|
| From the energetic kids in the park
|
| Yes, that was me breaking glass and pretending to start
|
| Something big, some new taste
|
| Did you wonder, as my voice went from station to station to state?
|
| Some loud thunder, sometimes there’s no telling if we’re ok
|
| There are buildings up for sale
|
| On the other side of town which are falling down for people
|
| To stand in their place, try to make something great
|
| That’s just a part of the story
|
| And it could be maybe something complete someday
|
| At the end of the quarry
|
| Yes that was me digging holes for the world to see
|
| And a cannonball as big as the ocean could come from the sky and slap us all on
|
| the teeth
|
| But there’s always more unless I’m mistaken
|
| Tell me when do mouths close and people just gracefully retreat
|
| New York calling at the bottom of the ocean city gritting it’s teeth
|
| But there’s no telling from the telepathic Mrs. crying on live TV
|
| Whoa the misanthropic topical arrangement
|
| That is met with a shark bite by the terminal patient
|
| That’s me, am I late?
|
| That’s the start of my story
|
| And it may be one day something complete
|
| At the end of the quarry
|
| Oh I have dug a hole for all the world to see
|
| And a cannonball as big as the ocean could come from the sky and slap us all on
|
| the feet
|
| But there’s always more unless I’m mistaken
|
| Tell me when do mouths close and people gracefully retreat?
|
| When they gracefully retreat |