The city has sex with itself I suppose
|
As the concrete collides, well, the scenery grows
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And the lonely once bandaged lay fully exposed
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They undressed their wounds for each other
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And there's a boy in a basement with a four track machine
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He's been strumming and screaming all night, down there
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The tape hiss will cover the words that he sings,
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They say it's better to bury your sadness
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In a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring
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To awake from its sleep and burst into green
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Well I've cried and you would think I'd be better for it
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But the sadness just sleeps and it stays in my spine
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For the rest of my life
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And I've learned and you'd think I'd be something more now,
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But it just goes to show it is not what you know
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It's what you were thinking at the time.
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This feeling's familiar, I've been here before
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In a kitchen this quiet I waited for
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A sign or just something that might reassure me of anything close
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To meaning or motion with a reason to move
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I need something, I want to be close to
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And I scream, but I still don't know why I do it
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'Cause the sound never stays it just swells and decays
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So what is the point?
|
WHY TRY TO FIGHT WHAT IS NOW SO CERTAIN?
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THE TRUTH IS ALL THAT I AM IS A PASSING EVENT THAT WILL BE FORGOTTEN.
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The City Has Sex
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| Bright Eyes |
