I feel the top of the roof come off, kill everybody there as I'm watching all the stars burn out, trying to pretend that I care.
But I didn't, no-one ever does, and I would, no-one ever will
Can't you see it's all flown out of my hands and our clothes are all too often ripped and our teeth are all too often gnashed and it lasts as long as it possibly can but I just don't accept this.
I just don't accept this at all.
Faces sweaty, arms and legs, what a glorious set of stairs we make.
We kill everyone with arrowheads, arrowheads, arrowheads. Thank god that's over.
