Lyrics:
Turn it downStart it overAlone is such an ugly gamePay it backPay it forwardNothing means nothing to meSo they went down to the stationThey were looking for a rideThey were running out of inkThey were running out of timeYeahAnd with the color of the whistleWith the sounding of the smokeI repeat it in a pictureI repeat it in a jokeYeahYeahLoud clothesQuiet earringsBlack nightsWhite shadowsA bone and a keyOld flamesDead [?] widowsSomeone has been done to meSo they believe that their conductorIs the leader of the packKilling time and too conductiveThey were never looking backYeahAnd the table had to chase itAnd the time hollered backAnd the thanks that cut the cableAnd they're running out of tracksYeahYeahSo they kissed the farmer's daughtersWith their pockets full of goldAnd they draw the shades of marketsOn the corner of the windowAnd the kid under the kitchenAnd unmarked graveThey're uncovering the old