Check that pulse
Embrace this panic
Am I dead yet
I breath daylight and exhale at night
Am I dead
My dearest Venice
I will collapse upon your streets
And we can make art of these skinned knees
We crash our cars like there's no tomorrow
And who's to say that there is
Well, it's a broken and battered ballroom
Of twisted metal and falling ceilings
Inside, we toss and spin
We dance by accident
This may not be choreography
But inertia has got our bodies moving
And that's gotta count for something
Gotta count for something
Inside, we toss and spin
We dance by accident
This may not be choreography
But inertia has got our bodies moving
And that's gotta count for something
Gotta count for something
Soon these cuts will become scars
And leave a face only a surgeon can love
And you won't want these worthless eyes
They've seen no vineyards basked in sunlight
Only a lonely Chesapeake and two hands soaked in misery
They said the sea air would help heal these lungs
But spring is beating New England into a bloody summer
Like some sort of rapist gripping their victim
What kind of man lets this happen
What kind of God
What kind of God
You thief
You villain
You mother fucking coward
We don't deserve this, we don't deserve this
And you know it, you fucking know it
You thief
You villain
You mother fucking coward
We don't deserve this, we don't deserve this
And you know it, you fucking know it
Check that pulse
No one wins
Embrace this relief
Maestro, please
I could use something sad to walk away to