it's the end of instinct for the marginalized since this the farthest we'll go with our lives we are the wreckage spilling our art we are the suckers with the shattered hearts condemned I say born this way determined to die picked up a bloodtrail from miles away where voices collide like the crashing of trains sell the scrap and ignore the remains I sell the scrap and ignore the remains cautiously caustically all history as an end to means we never win so bolt the door block out the light raise a glass we die tonight in celebration of our flesh and bone we'll live in the margins and die alone as we waltz through the rubble of these bombed-out shells and dance to the music of the go-nowheres.