So, do it for your sons and daughters.
Throw your thieves to their watery graves.
Red light--you're gone in a flash,
But you'll be as bright as a brass band plays.
Be a swift and simple motion.
Fall asleep in a floor-less ocean.
It's quicker to panic, ya know,
Than to brace for a titanic blow;
The S.S. Here We Go.
And I'm on the rise like the poorer folk,
'Til I'm all but a crack where the engine broke.
You can find me up where the stars explode.
Or am I goin' down with the sinkin' ship,
With the two of my feet no worse than both my lips?
Just a fumblin' fool up where the ice gets slick.
And a fog runnin' thick.
I just cannot call it quits.
So take 'em both: the frothed and festered.
And treat 'em like your old-school records.
You know every crack in the spine.
You love every song,
But you ain't got time to listen to them anymore.
So, do it for your father's fathers.
Take your deeds to your watery grave.
Kept up with my faults, once and for all,
Ya swept them up into a clear glass ball.
Let it fall from a peak thirty-thousand feet tall.
And I'm on the rise like the poorer folk,
'Til I'm all but a crack where the engine broke.
You can find me up where the stars explode.
Or am I goin' down with the sinkin' ship,
With the two of my feet no worse than both my lips?
Just a fumblin' fool up where the ice gets slick.
And a fog runnin' thick.
I cannot call it quits.
So, do it for your sons and daughters.
Throw your thieves to their watery grave.
Do it for your sons and daughters.
And when you finally at last come home
And the fires in the walls are gone,
Just you pretend you never knew another one.
And I'm on the rise like the poorer folk,
'Til I'm all but a crack where the engine broke.
You can find me up where the stars explode.
Or am I goin' down with the sinkin' ship,
With the two of my feet no worse than both my lips?
Just a fumblin' fool up where the ice gets slick.
I cannot help but slip.
There's a fog runnin' thick.
I just need to quit.