| Into a new place, pulling myself back
|
| Tasting smoke and blood and burning in my lungs
|
| I’m lying on my left side, I don’t know if I can move
|
| But I can hear myself breathing, I can hear myself breathing
|
| Then into a new place — this is where I die
|
| And all the noise is gone and there is only calm
|
| Deep beneath the city waiting for the fire
|
| Any second now
|
| But the fireball never comes and so we turn back to ourselves
|
| I can hear us all breathing, I can hear us all breathing
|
| In the pitch black tunnels with all the weight above
|
| I can hear us all breathing, I can hear us all breathing
|
| Then into a new place shouting men with torches and tools
|
| Stumbling from the wreckage in a starlight of shattered glass
|
| The wounded and the shell-shocked, the blackened and the burned
|
| I can hear us all breathing, I can hear us all breathing
|
| Climbing ever upwards like the rising of the dead
|
| I can hear us all breathing, I can hear us all breathing
|
| I can hear myself breathing, I can hear myself breathing
|
| I can hear us all breathing, I can hear us all breathing |