there's lots of kids in these towns who sound like lions
or at least they do in their own heads
and they're layin' down in their graves and waitin'
'cause it's never too soon to prepare, they said
for when it's coming for all of us
when we'll all sprout wings and we're lined with dust
and we're spread out over the sands that we're breathin'
and it appears to me that we're achievin'
the very same thing that they are grievin' for
and they straighten their spines out, and you can feel the cracks
that echo across those railroad tracks
where they all converge and then all depart
and the strings they pull are finally torn apart
and they're tangled, and they're hanged, and they're finally left
in the ruins of your lives and the traces of your breath
but you're not tethered to the earth by your own death
ya know, you're set free
(or at least that's what I'm told)
but don't ask me what you're supposed to trust
we're left there frozen and wet with rust
like we were just born
and we were left to scrape ourselves from the floor
and the only thing you can ask for is more
violence and i can't do that, i know
so these kids all bury their heads in the snow
so they won't have to worry and they don't have to know
and i won't have to know, either
well, i believe in the great deciever.