Old friends, new crowds
The sun still burns through the clouds
White hands, brown skin
No way out, no way in.

This is a clique, you're not invited
We're alone together and we like it.
We sell death, we use death until it's dying
We fight death and lose and keep on trying.

We sing like seagulls, feast like falcons
Needles and powder: you won't catch us without them.
We shake ourselves down and shake all the way up
And even when we're past ground level, it's not enough.

****** jazzy tunes in this crackden melody.
We'll introduce you to our eyes and allow you to see.
We'll let you meet our minds and soar above the clouds.
You've got a taste for it; you'll never leave us now.