Stand and move and walk across the water.
Peel the cover from the city.
Watch its insides twitch and smoke and rotate endlessly.
Sinking. Moving deep beneath the water.
Lots of other worlds exist.
Soon enough weâ??ll tear them open.
Soon enough weâ??ll break them too.

Swimming. Watching concrete eat the ocean.
Metal fingers scrape the skies.
The windows look like Christmas lights from out here.
Floating. Counting clouds. Theyâ??re slowly fading.
Blending in with cardboard skies.
Soon weâ??ll manufacture replicas.
Itâ??s all replaceable.

From the sky, the train tracks look like stitches.
Like theyâ??re holding the world together; like itâ??ll blow any minute.
And Iâ??ve got another thought Iâ??ll keep to myself.
Until the skeletons walk free. Until the make-up all comes off.
Thereâ??s nothing new to discover, thereâ??s nothing new to invent.
Thereâ??s nothing new to think that hasnâ??t been thought of before.
And thereâ??s nothing to believe we havenâ??t already forgotten.
Thereâ??s nothing left, thereâ??s nothing new, thereâ??s nothingâ??
No, no, no, no.
And Iâ??ve got another dream Iâ??ll keep to myself.
Until the tyrants are dead and the patriots are swallowed whole.
And Iâ??ve got a bottle I can aim at the center,
Full of letters, as a kid, Iâ??d always meant to send.
Weâ??d speak our minds and change the world.
Weâ??d fix the past and pave the way.
But now weâ??re fresh out of heroes; now weâ??ve run dry on hope.
There are no saviors in technology: just quick fixes.
And holes, within holes, within holes, within you.
And a place to hang my head, and convince myself there is no difference.