We, the black-streaked, bag-eyed husbands Move waiting to be widowed By the passing of familiar skies And all we've come to know Our shadows have my sympathy 'Cause they must never wish to be Joined beneath, unwillingly Our endless, restless feet So praise be the break of day When we run out of things to say We'll learn to speak in different ways So plead with the cities to be breathing May beauty make them bend and sway We'll learn to speak in different ways Our lusts caught frozen in the street light Our indecision rides atop the crow It burned out, blackened, turned to ash and blew away To embers far too bright to see And not there enough to weigh So praise be the break of day When we run out of things to say We'll learn to speak in different ways So plead to the cities to be breathing May beauty make them bend and sway We'll learn to speak in different ways ♪ Praise be the break of day When we run out of things to say We'll learn to speak in different ways So plead with the cities to be breathing May beauty make them bend and sway We'll learn to speak in different ways