| The city streets are bare at best
|
| A ghost town is all that’s left
|
| Scribbled on the wall is «revolution»
|
| The windows are all broken out
|
| The doors caved in and signs torn down
|
| The sky is coloured grey, from pollution
|
| The times you have to end and start again, my friend
|
| And often times you don’t know where to begin
|
| Tear this down and start it over
|
| We’ve been waiting for so long
|
| All we had is growing colder
|
| I remember when we were so strong
|
| We used to be a city square
|
| It’s a desolate, starked sad affair
|
| And everyone is forced into seclusion
|
| The times you have to end and start again, my friend
|
| And often times you don’t know where to begin
|
| Tear this down and start it over
|
| We’ve been waiting for so long
|
| All we had is growing colder
|
| I remember when we were so strong
|
| We are all that’s left
|
| Getting on and getting less
|
| A generation left in the past
|
| We are all that’s left
|
| Getting on and getting less
|
| A generation left in the past
|
| We are all that’s left
|
| The times you have to end and start again, my friend
|
| And often times you don’t know where to begin
|
| Tear this down and start it over
|
| We’ve been waiting for so long
|
| All we had is growing colder
|
| I remember when we were so strong
|
| Tear this down and start it over
|
| We’ve been waiting for so long
|
| All we had is growing colder
|
| I remember when we were so strong |