They’ll want to know, what have you done?
And where will we go? But I don’t think it matters anymore.
The moon hangs low, and the shepherds run from some unnamed ghost
'Cause they don’t think it matters anymore.
No, they don’t fear disaster anymore.
Don’t act alarmed, feign a new surprise.
A sudden slight of hand if something doesn’t feel right.
A supernatural delight of ghosts and wine.
They call my name and I shake a pulse and shoot out the lights.
They want to know, what have we done to deserve false hope?
But I don’t think it matters anymore, no I don’t think it matters anymore.
Everything you love has been tagged and sold,
and everything you quarantine will turn back into gold.
We’re dreaming deeply (I'll never tell a lie)
And screaming sweetly (we've been stolen.
Sing me a song to stitch the hole you’ve left in our lives.
Make me a monster mad enough to drown out our cries.

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