Текст Listener – Plague Doctor

This is how it’s going to be. Striking while the iron’s still warm. While you’re not afraid to die.
Shielded with science from fear of certain death. Spending more on killing than anything else.
Propped up. Walls on the backs of our neighbors. Giving half your life for land no one can ever really own.
Asking yourself how did I get here again?

Bow down or you’ll be singled out. Face and palms up where we can see ’em.
On your backs until the tires give out. The hole we build inside is a gift.

Never tired again. do you buy it? What kind of life is this?
Don’t let go of the desk in front of you. The house that can never really be yours.
Surrounded by armor bought with priceless time. To keep the calm inside.
Broken jar, damaged people. Nothing to say? Biting your tongue.
Asking yourself how did I get here again?

Bow down or you’ll be singled out. Face and palms up where we can see ’em.
On your backs until the tires give out. The hole we build inside is a gift.

In my dumb mind I don’t recognize myself. Do you remember me? Drawing circles around my memories.
Setting traps for them, setting myself up, making a cocoon, breathing. Filling it with medicine.
Being empty. It’s just as big as being filled.
I think this is a stop sign, it’s hard to tell.
The heart in my head is aching from colliding head on, and I have a smokey mind.
Selling myself on caution. First with the color, then the good feeling.
I had a daydream. I have them every day, and in most every way my future lives inside.
So I try and pay attention, because I know it comes from somewhere, even if I can’t remember, even it it goes to nowhere.
Death rattles on without me, or maybe that’s my lungs, or the sound of my heart collapsing.
Help. I am alive.
I think this is a stop sign, it’s hard to tell.
The heart in my head is aching from colliding head on, and I have a smokey mind.
Selling myself on caution. First with the color, then the good feeling.
I had a daydream. I have them every day, and in most every way my future lives inside.
So I try and pay attention, because I know it comes from somewhere, even if I can’t remember, even it it goes to nowhere.
Death rattles on without me, or maybe that’s my lungs, or the sound of my heart collapsing.
Help. I am alive.