And when they come
To round us up
To gather us up
Shadow and air
I'll think of you
Standing there
Lovely in the light
And when they come
To bag us up
To make the world
Invisible
Oh man it already is...
Pretty as a picture...
But “pretty as a picture” is “halfway there.”
A fortress of solitude's no contest when you stare at oblivion
The game is rigged in every direction
You play to win not a goddamn thing
You climb the walls, you're made of string
You climb the walls, you're made of string
You climb the walls, you're made of string!
And “pretty as a picture” means “halfway there.”
Your fortress of solitude's no contest when you're staring at oblivion!
So when they come
To hack us up
Arms, legs, mouth, eyes
Used to be so nice
Used to be such a thrill...
Come on, University Hill!
(It's called love...)