歌词
Watch the final sun,
Rise against the curve.
Still more fire,
Is spreading fire,
Over what is left to burn.
What is left to burn?
Have you seen the floating islands?
There's so much waste to build a wall.
Have you seen Angels in Exile?
Who sleep with needles on the floor.
We're trading Coral for Coal,
Ripping out our roots.
For those last few drops of oil,
To polish up our marching boots.
She tells me the same story,
Of a son barely born.
And a husband who beat cancer,
But never came home from the war.
We're trading Coral for Coal,
Ripping out our roots.
For those last few drops of oil,
To polish up our marching boots.
The groove in Manhattan,
I love that it never goes to sleep.
Will we call it New Venice,
When the ocean floods the streets.
So I'm seeking out fame,
To give more volume to our voice.
Not to point out any blame,
But to point out we have a choice.
Instead of
Coral for Coal,
Ripping out our roots.
For those last few drops of oil,
To polish up our corporate shoes.