The festivities over Everyone is leaving now Or slumped on couches or carpet Snoring, drooling You can pour out your wine but it's too early for coffee (C o f f e e c o f f e e) It's freezing outside with an ashtray overflowing and The windows are open and the roaches are feeding It's hidden in the cracks and in the in-betweens Of midnight and dawn where the line is blurry Or maybe our vision is too blurry to see the line And maybe the kitchen clock is an hour behind The oligarchy is tugging his strings He dances and sings, he dances and sings He dances and sings, he dances and sings We are color surging through stain glass lines And pillaring down as stalactites Inside a nuclear submarine Three hundred meters deep At the bottom of a rocky trench No one can find us now No one can touch us now No one will find us now No one will touch us now No one can hurt us now