| Now it’s time to wrap our fears in the night
|
| And on the first day I’ll dress this city in flames
|
| After all the things you say
|
| You hate me for being this way
|
| Still you won’t let go of old ideals
|
| There is no headline to read at night
|
| When the record skips and you’re not holding the needle
|
| We all sing the songs of separation
|
| And we watch our lives bleed out through our hands
|
| That’s how it was on the first day
|
| When we saw Paris in Flames
|
| Rain, rain down
|
| I think it’s going to rain, rain down
|
| I think it’s going to rain
|
| I think it’s going to rain, rain down
|
| I think it’s going to rain
|
| Here in this collapsed lung of a borough
|
| There is no sunlight
|
| The sunlight is manufactured in a windowless room
|
| Distant and incoherent
|
| Businessmen hang themselves
|
| We all sing the songs of separation
|
| And we watch our lives bleed out through our hands
|
| That’s how it was on the first day
|
| When we saw Paris in Flames
|
| The lower east side is a jukebox playing the deadman’s crescendo
|
| The needle is a vector
|
| An intersection that we all must cross
|
| A dimly lit hallway where shadows of moths decorate the walls
|
| Discard this message
|
| Discard this message
|
| Discard this message
|
| (Burn this city down, down…)
|
| Discard this message
|
| Throw this bottle back in the ocean
|
| Rip this page from the history books
|
| Smash all the street signs
|
| Erase all the maps
|
| Forget my name
|
| Forget my face
|
| Forget my name
|
| Because it’s going to rain (it's going to rain)
|
| And it never ends
|
| Rain, rain down
|
| I think it’s going to rain, rain down
|
| I think it’s going to rain
|
| I think it’s going to rain, rain down
|
| I think it’s going to rain
|
| We all sing the songs of separation
|
| And we watch our lives bleed out through our hands
|
| That’s how it was on the first day
|
| We saw Paris in Flames |