Rain, like tin angels falling down.
LIke a mission and we're half-way there
From some old dried up fried forgotten town.
Why, won't they let us be ourselves?
With our potential we could toe the line
And show the bastards up with our divine
Light
Seize
All the records from the past
Hold for ransom all the artifacts
This ragged town protects them to the last
With Lies
See them running heading homeward to Seattle.
Deem
All the liars in your tribe
To be the fires on the western side
Of some old front we call the War of art.
Rain, like tin angels falling down
Like a mission and we're half-way there
From some old dried up fried forgotten town
From some old dried up fried forgotten town
To some old fried up fried forgotten town.Take for granted ideas slanted, new disease
Fisheye goggles blur our channels to appease
Mental channels, psychic vandals in disguise
Feed the others sweet taste buffers, muffling cries
Damn us to ourselves, damn us to ourselves
Nowhere to hide our disease
Dig a hole to hide from life
Damn us to ourselves, damn us to ourselves
Desparation gets too easy
Dig a hole to die inside
Independent but not single makes some sense
Vicious cycles chew disciples, recompense