We hear the dealers with the words
That ride the tails
Of their cigarette smoke

Sliding through the tunnels of our ears



Those greasy marionettes of
Real bone and blood
Stand on the corner of Washington Square



Vision stining

Eyes blurring



Elevator's got you rising so high
17 floors you want so much more
Elevator's got you rising so high

17 floors you want so much more




There's lightning on the ceiling
Coming from the corner of her eye





Somewhere horses flee from thunder
Somewhere the bones of a cat
Are buried under a garden

Well there's a radio on
Broken songs empty digression
Won't be long to you and me are gone from here





Lightning on the ceiling
Coming from the corner of her eye