This morning tastes of tragedy
All bent steel
Gold under cushioned powder so real
Sandbag the banks before we're swept up my dear
Of a dull roar that lost souls could hear
Are the white ships
In a slow drift
Can a heart turn to coal
Can we write this
Can we pull closed the door
Outside the cars are clambering
Horns set to blow
They're lined up and barely moving so slow
An eye for an eye before we're armed to the teeth
An old prayer that we don't dare repeat
Are the white ships
In a slow drift
Can a heart overflow
Can we write this
In a new script
Can we pull closed the door
