Down the street half a block away
In a familiar place regular people
Agree with each other in smoke signals
(Down the street half a block away
In a familiar place regular people
Agree with each other)

Interprets the law as aging with it eyesight failing
The law is aging (oh yes it is)
Sitting across tables spending nights talking about other nights
Our eyes unclose like books we've read twice

So on the shelves lined with spines
The dust collects as scattered ash
From an urn unturned
Spilling over with someone regular
And other such regulars
Cry ghost and boast
Of the friend of a friend
Who saw a strange sight
Or heard a strange sound
Who now whispers tall tales of murder most foul

Down the street half a block away
In a familiar place regular people
Agree with each other in smoke signals
Brought together to burn the thing that brings them together

Interprets the law as aging with it eyesight failing
Interprets the law as aging with it eyesight failing

Somebody's little girl
Dreams of the things she's read

Somebody's somebody's little girl
Dreams of the things she's read
Or the monsters in her bed
Who hacked her into bloodmeat