| Dead songs are drowning out voices of compassion with a sigh
|
| «Alright?» |
| Alright
|
| Deadlines are winding down
|
| Fatal clocks keep ticking off dead time
|
| Nothing hurts, nothing moves, nothing stays
|
| No one hopes and no one dreams
|
| Nothing matters when the dead songs play
|
| Reject the death
|
| When all the color fades away
|
| The world is black and white
|
| Dead breath from TV sets fill the empty houses with a dead white light
|
| It’s no surprise
|
| Dead checks, dead sex
|
| Dead cigarettes flood the ambulance in the dead of night
|
| Alright? |
| Alright
|
| Nothing hurts, nothing moves, nothing stays
|
| No one hopes and no one dreams
|
| Nothing matters when the dead songs play
|
| Reject the death
|
| When all the color fades away
|
| The world is black and white
|
| There’s a dead song on the audio tape
|
| The strongest magnet couldn’t wipe away
|
| Singing, «It's alright.»
|
| But it’s not alright
|
| Then: pinpricks on the back of your neck
|
| A little voice inside you says
|
| «When you hear dead songs, don’t sing along--let it die.»
|
| Lift your small voices up
|
| And we’ll stitch these cries into a choir
|
| Our lonely notes form chords that the orchestra just can’t divide
|
| Alright |