This is not a tragedy, your exaggeration worries me, catastrophising everything is no way to live
But the harps and halos have struck the ground and the curious have gathered round, and struck up some brilliance in a way we never did
And the visionary heroes are trying to tame the night, they’ve made some kind of breakthrough and you know that they just might
But whatever this was it had a good run, well 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, ready or not here we come
Well the park feels like a stranger now, it’s seen me at my worst
And the baker and the butcher gathered ‘round the hearse
Where the candlestick maker lies quiet as a mouse
His shoddy workmanship had let the flame slip that would end setting fire to his house
And in his final splutter in the smoke, the irony wasn’t lost on him, at least
So we’ll leave them to wax lyrical about the origins of war, when we know that yearning has got a lot to answer for
Well it’s all written by the victors it’s all boys with rocks to hurl, and trying to pretend it’s not all to impress some girl
And the visionary heroes are trying to tame the night, they’ve made some kind of breakthrough and you know that they just might
But whatever this was it had a good run, well 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, ready or not here we come.
The difference now was marginal but you had earned an arsenal of self-destructive thoughts
They clamoured at your sanity and nothing else but brevity of language could be used to stop from being caught
And the visionary heroes are trying to tame the night, they’ve made some kind of breakthrough and you know that they just might
But whatever this was it had a good run, well 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, ready or not here we come