Oh Churchyard, Churchyard please,
Sing something back to me
The bell that rang my bones,
They left me feeling old

I saw young lovers carved on trees
My gravel voice and your smoky hair
To whisper maliciousness and swear
That we'll never leave our names on anything

Brooklyn was calling us out
But I couldn't stand embracing you now
Lucid dreams on burial schemes
With dead men standing behind me
Brooklyn was calling us out

It's a war of dead men vs new ideas
My god I hate your friends
Lucked out and learned to dance to misery
While hanging onto your consent
This is the last romance sponsored by cigarettes
When these low lives spoke to me of redemption,
I lost my confidence in

Ethics so loosely laced together
Cause I fold at the slightest touch
Still had the guts to hold your friends
Between our lips

Ethics this loosely laced together
Cause I fold at the slightest touch
Still had the grace to torch my past,
Pick up my phone, come pick me up

Brooklyn was calling us out
But I couldn't stand embracing you now
Hollow dreams of casualties
That casually rest their hands on me
Brooklyn