standing in a city that's constantly trying to abort its breath, we're looking at the sky
we might be defined to repeat fist-pumping anthems and tragic falls. all of them, no returns.
and you ask me, "don't you want to start over and look anywhere but at me?" that question again, and my answer is always no.
oh, baby boy, lift your headache head...
remnants of our past? oh they burn all right, fire roaring, smoke choking. they're just waiting for the next rain to put them to sleep
then they sleep, and it's morning. time to start again.
you'll be a stranger again and even though i'm choking on their ashes, i will not recognize you.
pump your fists. we'll fall again without a clue.