Thursday - Dead Songs lyrics
[Thursday - Dead Songs lyrics]
Dead songs are drowning out voices
Of compassion with a sigh alright? Alright
Deadlines are winding down
Fatal clocks keep ticking off dead time
Nothing hurts, nothing moves, nothing stays
No one sleeps and no one dreams
Nothing matters when the dead songs play
Reject the death
When all the color fades away
The world is black and white
Dead breath from TV sets fill the
Empty houses with dead white light
It's no surprise
Dead checks, dead sex, dead cigarettes
Flood the ambulance in the dead of night
Alright? Alright
Nothing hurts, nothing moves, nothing stays
No one sleeps and no one dreams
Nothing matters when the dead songs play
Reject the death
When all the color fades away
The world is black and white
There's a dead song on the audio tape
The strongest magnet couldn't wipe away
Saying "It's alright" but, it's not alright
When pinpricks on the back of your neck
A little voice inside you says
"When you hear dead songs, don't sing along
Let it die" (Die, Die)
Lift your small voices up
And we'll stitch these cries into a choir
(Die, Die, Die, Die)
Our lonely notes form chords that
The orchestra just can't divide alright
Of compassion with a sigh alright? Alright
Deadlines are winding down
Fatal clocks keep ticking off dead time
Nothing hurts, nothing moves, nothing stays
No one sleeps and no one dreams
Nothing matters when the dead songs play
Reject the death
When all the color fades away
The world is black and white
Dead breath from TV sets fill the
Empty houses with dead white light
It's no surprise
Dead checks, dead sex, dead cigarettes
Flood the ambulance in the dead of night
Alright? Alright
Nothing hurts, nothing moves, nothing stays
No one sleeps and no one dreams
Nothing matters when the dead songs play
Reject the death
When all the color fades away
The world is black and white
There's a dead song on the audio tape
The strongest magnet couldn't wipe away
Saying "It's alright" but, it's not alright
When pinpricks on the back of your neck
A little voice inside you says
"When you hear dead songs, don't sing along
Let it die" (Die, Die)
Lift your small voices up
And we'll stitch these cries into a choir
(Die, Die, Die, Die)
Our lonely notes form chords that
The orchestra just can't divide alright