Lyrics:

An address to the golden door**lf**I was strumming on a stone again**lf**Pulling teeth from the pimps of gore**lf**When hatched a tragic opera in my mind**lf****lf**And it told of a new design**lf**In which every soul is duty bound**lf**To uphold all the statutes of boredom, therein lies**lf**The fatal flaw of the red age**lf****lf**''Cause it was nothing like we''d ever dreamt**lf**Our lust for life had gone away with the rent we hated**lf**And because it made no money**lf**Nobody saved no one''s life this time**lf****lf**So we burned all our uniforms**lf**And let nature take its course again**lf**And the big ones just eat all the little ones**lf**That sends us back to the drawing board**lf****lf**In our darkest hours, we have all asked for some angel to come**lf**Sprinkle his dust all around**lf**But all our crying voices, they can''t turn it around**lf**You''ve had some crazy conversations of your own**lf****lf**We''ve got rules and maps and guns in our backs**lf**But we still can''t just behave ourselves**lf**Even if to save our own lives**lf**So, says I, we are a brutal kind**lf****lf**''Cause this is nothing like we''d ever dreamt**lf**Tell Sir Thomas More we''ve got another failed attempt**lf**''Cause if it makes them money**lf**They might just give you life this time