Lead me through these cities of imaginary trends. Something's gonna be changing come the morning time my friend. As fickle as these streets are they might not even wait around till then.I've got a lot to loose so come and take it from me quick. Everything you loose if it makes you stronger it makes you sick. Take these cities from me I'll build buildings up with my own bare hands.The uppers aren't necessary the guilt is the coal that keeps the fire burning into driving out the cold that creeps in every corner crack and never leaves you alone till the lonely messengers come calling you back home.The trees are stacked in rows on the side of the road stripped of any dignity a birthing may have had. A 100 thousand crucified on the Mojave I-5 line. Singers, shepherds and salesmen all longing for someone to kill the joy of wondering and end all their desire. To help them to remember that the road is nothing but a liar.The uppers aren't necessary the guilt is the coal that keeps the fire burning to drive out the cold that creeps in every corner crack and never leaves you alone till the lonely
messengers come calling you back to the red door, cracked and crooked walk way the fence impaling the stars. Ghostly keepers lead the way through railroads of abandoned cars
the tracks and city streets cut through like scars.
