we can throw ourselves in the road
but receive no comfort from streetlights
why not come in for a jamies and a escape life
we'll idle in the meantime
aristocrats and architects with broken dreams
well they say the dead sea is dying
you say we're going underground for a while
we all need to be recognized for something
true as the devil's eyes are blue
working days and underpaid so hold the key
i see this place from my window
it goes on the corner like the rest
there are the buzzards and the crows
Pecking eyes of the sea self-obsessed
if commandment 11 is don't get caught
then 12 must be don't ever tell
Then ask yourself do you
Believe you'll go to hell
my mate went to the crossroads
to see the devil
but he never showed
and if he says so than i believe
i hear the place from my window
call me like a lighthouse to the sea
there swarm the buzzards and the crows
Spelling why?, talking wise endlessly
you and i hanging around
writing each other's names
with scissors we cut it out
Going to find my way
No need to be recognized
cause we can be self assured
we can be happy indoors
i know this place from my window
trip up and fall to the ground down below
hoods up for the buzzards and the crows
still believe in the void of themselves
still believe in the void of themselves
and all the trees and animals and mountains are grieved
