The city has sex with itself I suppose
As the concrete collides, well, the scenery grows
And the lonely once bandaged lay fully exposed
They undressed their wounds for each other
And there´s a boy in a basement with a four track machine
He´s been strumming and screaming all night, down there
The tape hiss will cover the words that he sings,
They say it´s better to bury your sadness
In a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring
To awake from its sleep and burst into green
Well I´ve cried and you would think I´d be better for it
But the sadness just sleeps and it stays in my spine
For the rest of my life
And I´ve learned and you´d think I´d be something more now,
But it just goes to show it is not what you know
It´s what you were thinking at the time.
This feeling´s familiar, I´ve been here before
In a kitchen this quiet I waited for
A sign or just something that might reassure me of anything close
To meaning or motion with a reason to move
I need something, I want to be close to
And I scream, but I still don´t know why I do it
´Cause the sound never stays it just swells and decays
So what is the point?
WHY TRY TO FIGHT WHAT IS NOW SO CERTAIN?
THE TRUTH IS ALL THAT I AM IS A PASSING EVENT THAT WILL BE FORGOTTEN.