These are only words And artificial tones We're just skin-and-bones playing telephone with things Probably never said at all This world is stitched with schemes Where once, there was reality It's hard to reach across the unbelievable distance of Being what we really are and who we claim to be And the irony engine isn't lost on me
The shame is that we saw it coming In the faces of the young among us In crayon-and-paper drawings The clearest writing on the wall we could ever ask for What do they believe? Where are all their fathers? Where are all their mothers? Who left them there alone With the television remote like some Philosopher's Stone 'Figure it out on your own, child.'
If I still have anything to say I'll try to make it plain Contrivance is a luxury I don't have In the time that's left before the madness overtakes me I'm a voice among the voices The roar of whispers closes in And the point seems to be pointless
And I've forgotten who I am... And I've forgotten who I am...
These are only words... Artificial tones... These are only words...