80,000 at the stage last night
Glowing fingers and pacifiers
No stained glass, just neon screens
Sweeping lights filling vacant minds
Bass lines and beats in time
with all the machines
Counting zeroes and ones
Strange collages
that are spinning round and round
Memories lost
Some have been found
No such thing as a perfect place
Meaningless thrills in a sacred space
Can’t we go back?
Currents coursing through the crowd
Metal veins feed the speakers our sound
What a monument to build
In honor of our youth
Caught between the troughs
The screams are getting loud
Must the waves roll down?
Head pounding like a tribal drum
Torn ticket from the stadium
is inside a pile of clothes
Warm water never felt so good
‘Bout to pop two pills
and that should help me
fake it through the day
Strange collages
that are spinning round and round
Memories lost
Some have been found
No such thing as a perfect place
Meaningless thrills in a sacred space
Can’t we go back?
Currents coursing through the crowd
Metal veins feed the speakers our sound
What a monument to build
In honor of our youth
Caught between the troughs
The screams are getting loud
Must the waves roll down?
Staring at the ceiling fan
Staring at the ceiling fan
Staring at the ceiling fan
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