| We went down to Houston Christmas Eve
|
| And you looked through me
|
| You pulled out my insides with your teeth
|
| And found receipts
|
| Looking for something
|
| Sounds like all the rest I knew who came and left with nothing
|
| She likes my conscience
|
| Silent like the grave, well ain’t that something?
|
| I drove to Chicago in my sleep
|
| In a dream
|
| I told all my friends that we’d still speak
|
| But it’s been fifteen weeks
|
| And now they’re through with me
|
| In the land where the gods are dead
|
| I can still hear their stations
|
| As the radio towers bend
|
| To their voices replaying
|
| And they speak through the static now
|
| Just like ghosts in their cages
|
| While the children still lie awake
|
| And the faithless are praying
|
| And they speak softly, as they are fading
|
| We are all ageless, we are all human
|
| But in the twilight, as sun is wasting
|
| I lose my words and I lose my patience
|
| I lose my thoughts and I lose my feelings
|
| Did you give up yet? |
| Do you feel nothing?
|
| Where is the daylight? |
| Where is the darkness?
|
| Where are my friends now? |
| Where is the silence?
|
| Is this the last dance? |
| Is this the real thing?
|
| Is this a new hell? |
| Are you my bad dream?
|
| Here comes the last dance, here comes the real thing
|
| Here comes a new hell, you are my bad dream |