Dead songs are drowning out voices of compassion with a sigh
|
"Alright?" Alright.
|
Deadlines are winding down
|
Fatal clocks keep ticking off dead time
|
|
Nothing hurts, nothing moves, nothing stays
|
(No one hopes and no one dreams)
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Nothing matters when the dead songs play
|
(Reject the death)
|
When all the color fades away,
|
The world is black and white
|
|
Dead breath from TV sets fill the empty houses with a dead white light
|
It's no surprise
|
Dead checks, dead sex,
|
Dead cigarettes flood the ambulance in the dead of night
|
Alright? Alright.
|
|
Nothing hurts, nothing moves, nothing stays
|
(No one hopes and no one dreams)
|
Nothing matters when the dead songs play
|
(Reject the death)
|
When all the color fades away,
|
The world is black and white
|
|
There's a dead song on the audio tape
|
The strongest magnet couldn't wipe away
|
Singing, "It's alright."
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But it's not alright
|
Then: pinpricks on the back of your neck
|
A little voice inside you says
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"When you hear dead songs, don't sing along--let it die."
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Lift your small voices up
|
And we'll stitch these cries into a choir
|
Our lonely notes form chords that the orchestra just can't divide
|
Alright?
|
|
-----------------
|
Dead Songs
|
| Thursday |
