|
We hear the dealers with their words |
|
That ride the tails |
|
Of their cigarette smoke |
|
Sliding through the tunnels of our ears |
|
Those greasy marionettes of |
|
Real bone and blood |
|
Stand on the corner of washington square |
|
Vision stinging |
|
Eyes blurring |
|
Elevators got your rising so high |
|
17 Floors you want so much more |
|
Elevators got you rising so high |
|
17 Floors you want so much more |
|
There's lightning on the ceiling |
|
Coming from the corner of her eye |
|
Somewhere horses flee from thunder |
|
Somewhere the bones of a cat |
|
Are buried under a garden |
|
Well ther's a radio on |
|
Broken songs empty digression |
|
Won't be long to you and me are gone from here |
|
Lightning on the ceiling |
|
Coming from the corner of her eye |
