“I hope to Christ it's the soundstage,”
Clara spat through her teeth
With no idea how right she was
Or the meaning underneath
These simple words
And thus the fire's burning
Iron doors are blowing—
Open wide for a final silent scream
The Innocents of Paris was interrupted at the time
But it was still released in 1929
And it's a crude but apt analogy
And though change may bring agony
Sound and image always would align
Maybe it was just a funny accent
Maybe it was just a stupid—
Voic-ing all the reasons it should stay the same
But they never had a choicе
Maybe it was due to their abilitiеs
Or lack thereof
Their begging—
Pleas-ing to the eye, but not the ear
Cries rise and fall from the smallest voice
And thus the fire's burning
Iron doors are blowing—
Open wide for a final silent scream
Hollywood starts turning
Audiences become discerning
Of the person on the screen
Pay lip service to future debts
Set the scene
Silver tongues immortalized on silver screens
Nothing's too precious to stay
Babels must fall everyday
Unraveling the reels of tomorrow
On time that's borrowed
Dismantle ideals of today
Death rattle sounds without notice
A damsel tied to the tracks
A locomotive comes rushing forth
And the listeners turn their backs
Their faces away
And thus the fire's burning
Iron doors are blowing—
Open wide for a final silent scream
Hollywood starts turning
Audiences become discerning
Of the person on the screen
Pay lip service to future debts
Set the scene
Silver tongues immortalized on silver screens
Nothing's too precious to stay
Babels must fall everyday
Eagle or Icarus took flight from the gate
Built in defiance of god
With language confounded
The eagle was grounded
And the tower was found to be flawed
And I was the first cast out
I vacantly bowed out
I die before my time
Before the stars could realign
Follow my lead
Fall into me
Fall into decay
Fall into me