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Description
We could never fashion flight from our broken boned epiphanies
(Or raise our shattered glasses to the red on her lips)
But anaemic as horses we parade them through these streets
Revolution is nothing but progress here
Perched on razorwire fences
Birds give names to ghosts and raise them as their own

Truth is a figment of your imagination
And the telephone is the wire around your neck
Hung up with wishes across the grand suburbia

Our zeitgeist is a harlot
She teaches us that duty justifies submission. It doesn't
There is salt in the street but the banks are empty
From weeping like the chorus torn from our lungs
We never quite grasped the idea of morality
When ethics were fed through hospital tubes
And sometimes they throw bricks through our open windows
Just to pick the shards of glass from our children's eyes

Bones are the most hollow of structures
And cortexial limbs can't swim these waters
Or write salvation on crumbling walls

Down at the harbour the air tastes of coma
And orphans populate the barricades like tombstones
Try to distinguish the sand from the dust
And perhaps the grass will grow once more
And fill the hollows behind these statue's eyes
I once saw the word Empire in a children's book
I once saw a dead man give an apple to a passing child

There's a secret in this town

Description
We could never fashion flight from our broken boned epiphanies
(Or raise our shattered glasses to the red on her lips)
But anaemic as horses we parade them through these streets
Revolution is nothing but progress here
Perched on razorwire fences
Birds give names to ghosts and raise them as their own

Truth is a figment of your imagination
And the telephone is the wire around your neck
Hung up with wishes across the grand suburbia

Our zeitgeist is a harlot
She teaches us that duty justifies submission. It doesn't
There is salt in the street but the banks are empty
From weeping like the chorus torn from our lungs
We never quite grasped the idea of morality
When ethics were fed through hospital tubes
And sometimes they throw bricks through our open windows
Just to pick the shards of glass from our children's eyes

Bones are the most hollow of structures
And cortexial limbs can't swim these waters
Or write salvation on crumbling walls

Down at the harbour the air tastes of coma
And orphans populate the barricades like tombstones
Try to distinguish the sand from the dust
And perhaps the grass will grow once more
And fill the hollows behind these statue's eyes
I once saw the word Empire in a children's book
I once saw a dead man give an apple to a passing child

There's a secret in this town