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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
Sitting on the brink of an indescribable fall I could be heading back but there's no room left to crawl Waiting on the name of the last great American hymn While people are amazed by the television glaring at them Counting on the deaths of the terrifying faithless men Eden had its shame but still it found a way to stay clean Had the fancy fees to pay its miracle machinery But The City is our home and the noise just followed along With the dreams we had awake to a fraction of its glorious song With a book about the plans for the last great American band The people of this nation will protest, they need to be mad Still bitter from some lover and the finer things that they never had I knew it was a waste but wasted is all they show Shouting on a whim because there's no one left who knows We're mourning from the death of the last great American man |