| I hear whispers, hear them talking
|
| Might be lost, but not forgotten
|
| I’m a tin man, I’m a lock-in
|
| Politicians and semantics
|
| add a flair for the dramatics
|
| When it crumbles down, they come knocking
|
| Windows bought and boarded down.
|
| Floor falls out beneath our feet
|
| Seas of screams without a sound
|
| will carry clear across the world so loud.
|
| Under the surface, it’s much more than it seems.
|
| Population in a panic
|
| While the sickness is expanding
|
| but the lights are on in the attic
|
| Doors are closed, locks are on
|
| People lining every street
|
| Power to those who pry them off
|
| They’ll do anything to find the key
|
| Under the surface, it’s much more than it seems.
|
| Not a nation unaffected
|
| for the fearful are cemented
|
| to the promise of a safe haven.
|
| Windows bought and boarded down
|
| Floor falls out beneath our feet
|
| Seas of screams without a sound
|
| will carry across the world so loud
|
| Doors are closed, locks are on
|
| People lining every street
|
| Power to those who pry them off
|
| They’ll do anything to find the key
|
| They’ll do anything to find the key
|
| Under the surface, it’s much more than it seems
|
| Much more than it seems. |