Hey little boy, when I tried to call you you were still in bed One of us destroyed the other like the dream I had The room is white and the clock ticks, I see nothing but now I feel sick. Got fifteen pictures taped to the wall I can't see you in any of them at all Here is comes, that poison melody plays to me. Will it enter our breeze and kill us while we sleep. That kind of music can kill your mind, I see it coming an apocalyptic sign I know my thinking is serpentine, One thousand death moons marching in a crooked line Well one of us write and the other love One of us shut up, while the other one talk. That kind of music can kill your mind, I see it coming an apocalyptic sign