I’ve been awake for hours As I watch the sunrise come over nothing And outside, the cars start racing Searching for something that we could never seem to find or afford
And maybe I owe the Devil a little something Just to keep things stable Because last night, I realized I was nothing more Than just a serpent for his plans
Chamberlain’s waiting down at the bottom of the city of hell Or heaven itself As the whistle she sings My hands building weapons for kings While somebody’s drinking my last rations of victory gin I’m sober as sin As my hands start to shake I fill with post-modern debates While Chamberlain’s waiting
Build our mistakes to the clouds Then blame us for dreaming out loud