| Halfway between New York and the Wasteland
|
| A statue of glass
|
| Burnin' with sand
|
| His hourglass physique
|
| Saw days turn into weeks
|
| Powerless to raise his head or his hands
|
| Yet, still, they kiss his feet
|
| And count their blessings
|
| Halfway between empty and drowning
|
| The cylinder shattered
|
| And out tumbled a man
|
| The rain came in sheets
|
| And the days turned into weeks
|
| And those weeks to years, he said, «Hold me»
|
| It’s so lonely in the city
|
| The lights, they make me sick
|
| Sing songs of forever
|
| Then songs of departure
|
| The pennants of joy in abandoned harbors
|
| Waitin' for something
|
| We damage me deeply, my dear, we do
|
| And we damage you, we damage you too
|
| As we damage me
|
| We damage me deeply
|
| Sing songs of forever
|
| Then songs of departure
|
| The pennants of joy in abandoned harbors
|
| Waiting for something
|
| We damage me deeply, my dear, we do
|
| And we damage you, we damage you too
|
| As we damage me
|
| We damage me deeply
|
| We damage me deeply, my dear, we do
|
| And we damage you, we damage you too
|
| As we damage me
|
| We damage me deeply
|
| And the days turn into weeks
|
| And those weeks to years, he said, «Hold me»
|
| It’s so lonely in the city
|
| The lights, they make me sick
|
| The lights, they make me sick
|
| The lights, they make me sick
|
| The lights, they make me sick |