Lyrics
Raven found herself a skinny skin stiletto
In the middle of a crowd, she needs a number
Fabricating passion for her painted fellows
In the middle of a crowd, she needs a lover
And I want to know, why are we
Breaking bottles, when this well is running dry?!
Drunk on aerosols — Shithole Paradise!
Keep them guessing!
Make them sweat it out — all at once!
We’ve always been…
I think I’m better than…
Them
Spirits thick as thieves, the building speaks in riddles
In the middle of a crowd, it needs a number
Sharpening its teeth, the spirits' weeping widow
In the middle of a crowd, there are no others!
And I want to know, why are we
Breaking bottles, when this well is running dry?!
It’s the great, subliminal entertainment device
With teeth, building living ghosts
Be calm… be calm, you riders on the storm!
See it for that shadow-box cannibal-dance distraction!
See it for that tired, smoke-and-mirror display!
See it for a crimson, neon stained-glass refraction!
See it for what it is, not what you want it to be
Leave a little leather by Miranda in the doorway
So she won’t say a thing
Make a little miserable scene out of her
I thought we were…
I thought we had… gone
Oh, spare the din your chloroform refrain
Pack away those old euphoria grenades
Look at all of them, reaching
Look at all of those hands:
Pulling, grabbing, pushing, in the interest
Of an understanding wasteland!
Winslow! Oh, Winslow…
Don’t look away, now!