Falcon Collage

Let's sing a song about smoke and flames that burnt down our lazy yesterdays. Let's pretend this poverty is fine and sit on our front porches like we do it all the time. Go out on these mean streets it's all the same. I watch my shoes while they take me on my way and I step to the beat everywhere I go. All the televisions screaming out these windows. And we're just waiting for the end. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say that living is a lot like dying. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say living is a lot like dying. A lot like dying. All the buzzards are circling overhead. Nobodies crying cause we're already dead. I sold my days off, now I sit around like every other waste of space living in this town. This is the only chance we have. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say that living is a lot like dying. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say living is a lot like dying. A lot like dying. Your Jesus, he cannot save you this time. Your precious savior is laughing while you die. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say that living is a lot like dying. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say living is a lot like dying. When the bell tolls I'll be fine. They say that living is a lot like dying. Your Jesus savior won't save you this time. Your precious savior is laughing while we die. Ain't nothing worth watching on the TV today, and I can't stand working, and there ain't no shade. Prayer is for weaklings. I'm banking n luck, this city, my looks, and not giving a fuck. It seems like these days we're all sinking fast. These days turned to weeks, now we're too weak to last. Little Triggers, how to you do? I've been waiting, waiting for you. You look around, the sky is dead brown. The remnants of the work week are scattered around. I hear it's raining on the outside. Well these veins are burning this gasoline tonight. Remember the hippies? Well that's us these days. Hang another flag on this watery grave. It all went down and it's still going down. Yeah, it's all going down.