| Song | Metal Fingers |
| Artist | Electric President |
| Album | Electric President |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Stand and move and walk across the water. | |
| Peel the cover from the city. | |
| Watch its insides twitch and smoke and rotate endlessly. | |
| Sinking. Moving deep beneath the water. | |
| Lots of other worlds exist. | |
| Soon enough we'll tear them open. | |
| Soon enough we'll break them too. | |
| Swimming. Watching concrete eat the ocean. | |
| Metal fingers scrape the skies. | |
| The windows look like Christmas lights from out here. | |
| Floating. Counting clouds. They're slowly fading. | |
| Blending in with cardboard skies. | |
| Soon we'll manufacture replicas. | |
| It's all replaceable. | |
| From the sky, the train tracks look like stitches. | |
| Like they're holding the world together; like it'll blow any minute. | |
| And I've got another thought I'll keep to myself. | |
| Until the skeletons walk free. Until the make-up all comes off. | |
| There's nothing new to discover, there's nothing new to invent. | |
| There's nothing new to think that hasn't been thought of before. | |
| And there's nothing to believe we haven't already forgotten. | |
| There's nothing left, there's nothing new, there's nothing | |
| No, no, no, no. | |
| And I've got another dream I'll keep to myself. | |
| Until the tyrants are dead and the patriots are swallowed whole. | |
| And I've got a bottle I can aim at the center, | |
| Full of letters, as a kid, I'd always meant to send. | |
| We'd speak our minds and change the world. | |
| We'd fix the past and pave the way. | |
| But now we're fresh out of heroes; now we've run dry on hope. | |
| There are no saviors in technology: just quick fixes. | |
| And holes, within holes, within holes, within you. | |
| And a place to hang my head, and convince myself there is no difference. |
| Stand and move and walk across the water. | |
| Peel the cover from the city. | |
| Watch its insides twitch and smoke and rotate endlessly. | |
| Sinking. Moving deep beneath the water. | |
| Lots of other worlds exist. | |
| Soon enough we' ll tear them open. | |
| Soon enough we' ll break them too. | |
| Swimming. Watching concrete eat the ocean. | |
| Metal fingers scrape the skies. | |
| The windows look like Christmas lights from out here. | |
| Floating. Counting clouds. They' re slowly fading. | |
| Blending in with cardboard skies. | |
| Soon we' ll manufacture replicas. | |
| It' s all replaceable. | |
| From the sky, the train tracks look like stitches. | |
| Like they' re holding the world together like it' ll blow any minute. | |
| And I' ve got another thought I' ll keep to myself. | |
| Until the skeletons walk free. Until the makeup all comes off. | |
| There' s nothing new to discover, there' s nothing new to invent. | |
| There' s nothing new to think that hasn' t been thought of before. | |
| And there' s nothing to believe we haven' t already forgotten. | |
| There' s nothing left, there' s nothing new, there' s nothing | |
| No, no, no, no. | |
| And I' ve got another dream I' ll keep to myself. | |
| Until the tyrants are dead and the patriots are swallowed whole. | |
| And I' ve got a bottle I can aim at the center, | |
| Full of letters, as a kid, I' d always meant to send. | |
| We' d speak our minds and change the world. | |
| We' d fix the past and pave the way. | |
| But now we' re fresh out of heroes now we' ve run dry on hope. | |
| There are no saviors in technology: just quick fixes. | |
| And holes, within holes, within holes, within you. | |
| And a place to hang my head, and convince myself there is no difference. |
| Stand and move and walk across the water. | |
| Peel the cover from the city. | |
| Watch its insides twitch and smoke and rotate endlessly. | |
| Sinking. Moving deep beneath the water. | |
| Lots of other worlds exist. | |
| Soon enough we' ll tear them open. | |
| Soon enough we' ll break them too. | |
| Swimming. Watching concrete eat the ocean. | |
| Metal fingers scrape the skies. | |
| The windows look like Christmas lights from out here. | |
| Floating. Counting clouds. They' re slowly fading. | |
| Blending in with cardboard skies. | |
| Soon we' ll manufacture replicas. | |
| It' s all replaceable. | |
| From the sky, the train tracks look like stitches. | |
| Like they' re holding the world together like it' ll blow any minute. | |
| And I' ve got another thought I' ll keep to myself. | |
| Until the skeletons walk free. Until the makeup all comes off. | |
| There' s nothing new to discover, there' s nothing new to invent. | |
| There' s nothing new to think that hasn' t been thought of before. | |
| And there' s nothing to believe we haven' t already forgotten. | |
| There' s nothing left, there' s nothing new, there' s nothing | |
| No, no, no, no. | |
| And I' ve got another dream I' ll keep to myself. | |
| Until the tyrants are dead and the patriots are swallowed whole. | |
| And I' ve got a bottle I can aim at the center, | |
| Full of letters, as a kid, I' d always meant to send. | |
| We' d speak our minds and change the world. | |
| We' d fix the past and pave the way. | |
| But now we' re fresh out of heroes now we' ve run dry on hope. | |
| There are no saviors in technology: just quick fixes. | |
| And holes, within holes, within holes, within you. | |
| And a place to hang my head, and convince myself there is no difference. |