We're all vultures, really.
There's this need to feed on the human emotion, the insatiable condition, really.
...and we've lost the flag to the book, and our pockets are full of blood, and sin.
There's nothing we can do, really.
There's nothing we can do.
Someone come save me from these gasoline angels, these suitcase prophets.
The days are being swallowed - horizon, don't you see- and we're drowning fast.
We don't have anywhere to go now,
Let's hold hands and wait.
It's going to stop now, no more
Click click goes the tick tock. Boris...Boris Restarts The Clock