And when your recurring dreams
become your recurring nightmares,
and we just can't get ourselves clean,
how will you find out who gives who dares?
Craft dearest wings that faded,
beginning brilliant white, twisted
to matte black firmly jaded.
Isn't it all just constructs?
Bricks and mortar,
maybe break from our quarters.
So let your recurring dreams
become your recurring nightmares.
We're not going to get ourselves clean;
give it your all, tell us it's fair.