There’s a fire at the door
And there’s decay in the streets
There’s a bullet in the barrel
And there’s roaches in the sheets
The preachers in the guillotine
Swearing to not know what he’s done
The future cannot be unwritten
Though it’s the past holding the gun
The sirens sing in alleys dark
And the shadows clap along
There’s a scream behind the tower
And the clock is counting wrong
The bankers kiss the hangman’s rope
And the poets sell their tongue
The night eats up the daylight
The song goes on being sung
The windows crack with whispers
And the pavement drinks the rain
There’s a monster in the doorway
Watching the drunk girl in the lane
The scholars write in riddles
While the tyrants make a score
The end is just beginning
At there’s so much more in store
The lamplight dies in homesteads
And the streets forget their name
There’s a gambler on a bad streak
Playing a cold and ruthless game
The prophets sell their visions
For a coin or fleeting fame
The hourglass is broken
Time will never be the same
The churches sit in silence
And the bells refuse to toll
There’s a serpent in the garden
Returning what he stole
The empire sleeps on ashes
And the broken write the code
The end is just a circle
When the rubber meets the road
