歌词
An address to the golden door
I was strumming on a stone again
Pulling teeth from the pimps of gore
When hatched a tragic opera in my mind
And it told of a new design in
Which every soul is duty bound
To uphold all the statutes of boredom
Therein lies the fatal flaw of the red age
Because it was nothing like we'd ever dreamt
Or lust for life had gone away
With the rent we hated
And becase it made no money
Nobody saved no one's life this time
So we burned all our uniforms
And let nature take it's course again
And the big onese just eat all the little ones
That sends us back to the drawing board
In my darkest hours
We have all asked for some
Angel to come
Sprinkle his dust all around
But all our crying voices
They can't turn it around
And you've had some crazy
Conversations of your own
We've got rules and maps
And guns in our backs
But we still can't just behave ourselves
Even if to save our own lives
We are a brutal kind
'Cause this is nothing like we'd ever dreamt
Tell Sir Thomas More
We've got another failed attempt
'Cause if it makes them money
They might just give you life this time
专辑信息