| Passing slowly through a vector
|
| Damp with fog
|
| The bog that grows through former business sector
|
| With my laugh, my lone companion
|
| Only I can save the lives that blink within this canyon
|
| (Whoa)
|
| We’re passing slow, we’re passing slow
|
| (Whoa)
|
| Slow! |
| Slow!
|
| Drink the colors of the nighttime
|
| If you were wrong, then I was right
|
| And this will be the right time
|
| (Oh!) I’ll display my disaffection
|
| (You grind me up, yeah, you spit me out!)
|
| Out across the city
|
| Loud and proud in your direction
|
| (Whoa)
|
| We’re passing slow, we’re passing slow
|
| (Whoa)
|
| Slow! |
| Slow!
|
| (Whoa)
|
| We’re passing slow, we’re passing slow
|
| (Whoa)
|
| Slow! |
| Slow!
|
| When I get to your apartment
|
| I climb the rail upside the building
|
| A band of them were in your apartment
|
| They tied you up, unwound, unwilling
|
| I watch them cut, watch them touch
|
| I watch them do what they came to do
|
| And then in I come to lick it up
|
| And clean up what is left of you
|
| Ha, ha, ha
|
| Show me what you’ve got |