explosions are over the moment they happen
the slow burn is better, though half as dramatic
do'nt act as if you've lit the places i've travled
i've seen your dynamite it's more like scented candles
clear clear clear
here agaisnt your chest i'm listening
clear clear clear
finding no signs that a rhythm ever lived here
a cavity of cob webs
still mouthing the language while i'm closing your eyelids
another house burned to ash
another tennent packed the attic
with news of days passed
oily rags they couldn't part with

explosions are over and everyone is older
ryan is driving and had a couple cold ones
i memorized the roads, i do it eyes closed
i'm taking you home
clear clear clear
you're finally seeing
clear clear clear
in the ambulence ceiling

you win, though they suck of the feeling
till they know your hands are off the wheel
i'm so sick of dead bodies
who want to be backseat drivers
get back in the crowd

who wants to live
who wants to shake
who won't survive
who wants a drive-by
we won't forgive
we'll drag the lake
we'll drain the sky
(we're sorry)