Standard (EADGBE)



An address to the golden door

I was strumming on a stone again

a tragic opera in my mind...

and it told of a new design

in which every soul is duty bound

to uphold all the statues of boredom therein lies

the fatal flaw of the red age


Because it was nothing like we'd ever dreamt

our lust for life had gone away with the rent we hated

and because it made no money nobody saved no one's life this time


So we burned all our uniforms

and let nature take its course again

and the big ones just eat all the little ones

that send us back to the drawing board.

In our darkest hours

we have all asked for some

angel to come

sprinkle his dust all around

but all our crying voices they can't turn it around

you've had some crazy conversations of your own.