| The great American mischief has muted our hearts
|
| And our rhythms are met
|
| With the inharmonious grunts of electric guitars
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| It’s all but too much
|
| So nobody out there believes the obscene are reprieved
|
| Everybody get fed up
|
| My baby better get high cause
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| I’ve got something that I need to confess
|
| The dead men talking are longing
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| For so much more than simply the obvious
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| Cut us off
|
| We’re suffering, hysterical
|
| Lighting the flare from the foot of her bed
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| I’ve been begging you for less mercy than this
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| But the only thing you need to know
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| Is that you never wanted to know
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| Take it off, take it back
|
| Or take cover 'cause we’re nearing a nerve
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| Dead is wasted on the patient
|
| So make haste and head for the wake
|
| Now the hornets inhabit the hearts we’ve abandoned
|
| We all are gone
|
| Cast aside our clothes like funeral roses
|
| And dance straight through the psalm
|
| I was right all along
|
| I’m dead, in the water
|
| Don’t come for me
|
| I was once alive in the desert’s eyes on the day it wed the sea
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| I drew a chalk outline of your city
|
| I hushed the sobs in your halls
|
| But we both know that it’s killer
|
| Baby he will outrun 'em all
|
| There is so much shame in how little we’ve gained for so long
|
| Now the sky is falling
|
| And you’re just repeating everything I say
|
| And you’re not listening close enough
|
| It’s a catastrophe
|
| You have not been concentrating
|
| Pay attention there will be an exam
|
| Build an ark
|
| Build an ark
|
| Come bring us back to the ruin
|
| Drifting out of our heads
|
| Taped off the sky above your city
|
| Dusted for prints on the chapel wall
|
| But we all know that it’s killer
|
| Baby I will outrun 'em all |