The night has fallen down the staircase
and i, for one, have felt its bruises
equilbrium; inebriated
our social graces have been displaced
As we sink deeper into the drink
the volume increases....
night time resurrects fault lines
silent wars -- rumble somewhere below
the surfaces verses...
the surfaces verses...
the shoe is dropped, lungs explode
shards of words of a shattered voice
and there's still a hole where the phone was thrown
Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah...
ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah...
The moon is rising, a revolution
i close my eyes and the room is spinning
you're screaming:
"sweetie, the moon has raped me --
it has left its seeds like a tomb inside me
so i must learn to abort these feelings
this romance is bleeding..."
Night time triggers the land mines
bedroom wounds -- lovers like brigadiers
marching two by two...
marching two by two...
a soldier's down
flood gates burst
i've said some things i wish you'd never heard
like, "there's still a hole where the phone was thrown."
it's growing as we speak
and it's sucking us both in
a vacuum of sorrow to swallow up the day