In this city of cynical liars,
Walking the tight rope, holding the balancing beam.
We ll burn the rope at both ends,
hoping to catch a glimpse of truth in their eyes,
As they fall, as they fall (As they crash and they burn)

Pay the toll, there s a tax on your senses,
If you smell, taste, see, feel, or hear the children laughing
because they don t know,
but being ignorant is better than malignant.

Ch: Label me, make me infantry,
I m an infant with artillery,
Harness me, use a muzzle to muffle my everything,
Please forbid me of all creativity.
Please make me infantry.

Obesity, can it be a nationality?
A reality, enforced by a strict security?
The buildings made of trees, made of money, made of disease.
A society based on freedom, run by hate and want and greed.
A generation of overmedicated kids given pills to level their thoughts,
They re unusual so they ll be abused,
They ll be purchased and sold, and bought and sold
and buy and sell them again.

CH: Repeat

The daily routine,
A well-oiled machine,
Interrupted by the fire,
That came from the sky save the queen bee!

All that s left are the torched remains of a world worth knowing,
They smile as they re frozen in space forever,
A shadow on the wall, a silhouette, is all that survived the blast,
The children in the yard on the swing are all gone, but the swings still swinging. The swings still swinging.

Please, please, please push me faster,
I want to fly,
Please, please, please push me higher,
I've got to fly.
I think I can see your house from up here,
Yeah, it s the one,
With the fire, and the smoke, and the flames,
And it burns like gasoline.

Repeat: Chorus