When you add your voice to bad choices Then your noise so white becomes mammoth It's dripping down the walls like quicksilver Dripping down as slowly as sabbath
[Bridge 1:] And for you: the Pulitzer Prize For stepping into traffic Now they knew the Americas You broke through, you're laughing
We have found a use for the profane Searching for the gods in the corners With the ignorance of the poet An unbreakable focus of mortars