It started out as a feeling Which then grew into a hope Which then turned into a quiet thought Which then turned into a quiet word And then that word grew louder and louder 'Til it was a battle cry
This is how it works You're young until you're not You love until you don't You try until you can't You laugh until you cry You cry until you laugh And everyone must breathe Until their dying breath
Be afraid of the lame, They'll inherit your legs. Be afraid of the old, They'll inherit your souls. Be afraid of the cold, They'll inherit your blood. Apres moi, le deluge After me the flood...
First there's lights out, then there's lock up. Masterpieces serving maximum sentences It's their own fault for being timeless, There's a price to pay and a consequence. All the galleries, the museums: "Here's your ticket, welcome to the tombs" There just public mausoleums The living dead fill every room.
The piano is not firewood yet But the cold does get cold So it soon might be that I'll take it apart, call up my friends And we'll warm up our hands by the fire
