| Stand and move and walk across the water
|
| Peel the cover from the city
|
| Watch its insides twitch and smoke and rotate endlessly
|
| Sinking. |
| Moving deep beneath the water
|
| Lots of other worlds exist
|
| Soon enough we’ll tear them open
|
| Soon enough we’ll break them too
|
| Swimming. |
| Watching concrete eat the ocean
|
| Metal fingers scrape the skies
|
| The windows look like Christmas lights from out here
|
| Floating. |
| Counting clouds. |
| They’re slowly fading
|
| Blending in with cardboard skies
|
| Soon we’ll manufacture replicas
|
| It’s all replaceable
|
| From the sky, the train tracks look like stitches
|
| Like they’re holding the world together; |
| like it’ll blow any minute
|
| And I’ve got another thought I’ll keep to myself
|
| Until the skeletons walk free. |
| Until the make-up all comes off
|
| There’s nothing new to discover, there’s nothing new to invent
|
| There’s nothing new to think that hasn’t been thought of before
|
| And there’s nothing to believe we haven’t already forgotten
|
| There’s nothing left, there’s nothing new, there’s nothing—
|
| No, no, no, no
|
| And I’ve got another dream I’ll keep to myself
|
| Until the tyrants are dead and the patriots are swallowed whole
|
| And I’ve got a bottle I can aim at the center
|
| Full of letters, as a kid, I’d always meant to send
|
| We’d speak our minds and change the world
|
| We’d fix the past and pave the way
|
| But now we’re fresh out of heroes; |
| now we’ve run dry on hope
|
| There are no saviors in technology: just quick fixes
|
| And holes, within holes, within holes, within you
|
| And a place to hang my head, and convince myself there is no difference |