| I’m split open
|
| Waiting for no one
|
| Don’t have a way to survive
|
| It’s not your love that I’m unsure of
|
| I never wanted to die
|
| But oh, the last picture show
|
| That has ever returned us
|
| Take our picture so that we know
|
| That you’ve heard of us
|
| And burned us
|
| You think it’s easy, feeling queasy
|
| And never sleeping at night
|
| Every so often, step from my coffin
|
| And mama, that isn’t right
|
| I don’t have the wisdom
|
| To try to rise up like a phoenix
|
| And paint my face white
|
| I act like I’m dressed out of time
|
| And creep like a ghost that’s on fire
|
| But oh, the last picture show
|
| That has ever returned us
|
| Take our picture so that we know
|
| That you’ve heard of us
|
| This room’s a cancelled show
|
| That has buried and burned us
|
| What if you’re just a clone
|
| A bag of bones and buttons
|
| The sound it splinters so much
|
| It turns into dust
|
| Like the last picture show
|
| That has ever returned us
|
| And burned us |