Rooftop dreamer by the nights,
mechanical dead head by dawn.
Retrograding mental state,
sleepwalking through this phase.
Tangled here in my own web,
strangled inside of this mess.
Ignorance is my Prozac
and silence is my high...
high.
Where we'll end up, no one knows for sure.
We're but tourists lost in this great clockwork,
in our search for galaxies unheard of,
but I know I've found mine
and it's here with you.
Flying far too near the sun
with these wings of wax melting.
There's no demigods out here,
no radiant angels.
No giant hand on its dashboard
nor its magnifying glass.
Wish we could just fall asleep
and wake up when we're there...
there.
Where we'll end up, no one knows for sure.
We're but tourists lost in this great clockwork,
in our search for galaxies unheard of,
but I know I've found mine
and it's here with you.