| Well misery loves company
|
| That’s why we’re thick as thieves
|
| Let’s move out to the country
|
| And live just the way we please
|
| We’ll make ourselves a little home
|
| A garden and a fire
|
| Forget the shit we left behind
|
| And follow our desires
|
| We’ll write a song and sing along
|
| And sway unto the sound
|
| And the chorus, it will go like this:
|
| We burned the city down
|
| We burned the city down
|
| Yeah, we burned the city down
|
| 'Cause I believe the devil lives
|
| In towers made of steel
|
| With subway cars and crowded bars
|
| That suck away the feel
|
| Of cool grass underneath you feet
|
| And sun that warms the skin
|
| Our lives are made of shiny plastic
|
| Plexiglass and sin
|
| Let’s get out of this city
|
| Out past every burgh in town
|
| Someday we’ll tell our children
|
| «Hey, we burned the city down»
|
| We burned the city down
|
| Yeah, we burned the city down
|
| Eventually the memories
|
| Of our old lives will fade
|
| No longer slaves to modern ways
|
| No money to be made
|
| We’ll raise our children in our image
|
| Only as they are
|
| And teach them how to farm their way
|
| And how to read the stars
|
| And every night our family
|
| Will make a joyful sound
|
| And sing of that triumphant day
|
| We burned the city down
|
| We burned the city down
|
| Yeah, we burned the city down
|
| We burned the city down
|
| Yeah, we burned the city down |