Language City is a bad, old place We all know Where eyeballs float in space We all know
We were tired, we can't sleep It's crowded here, none of us leave Language City don't mean a thing to me
Audiences, the same program is always on I'd infer, it's best to avoid the law When your wife wakes up and sees Shut the blinds and block out the street Language City don't mean a thing to me
All this working Just to tear it down All this working Just to tear it down
Language City is a bad, old place We all know Eyeballs float in space We all know
We're tired, we can't sleep It's crowded in the street Language City don't mean a thing to me
I been here so long my heart is a parking lot Hollow feet rooted to the spot But the fields are beyond belief From tower out to where I can see Language City don't mean a thing to me
All this working Just to tear it down All this working Just to tear it down
On the telephone On the telephone On the telephone Someone's counting the hours In a paper room In a paper room In a paper room Somebody's counting the hours
Know I know it's true From above this room Somebody's counting the hours The hours The hours The houuuuurs
Oh the long bitter road Let us down Oh the ringing telephone There's no one around
We are not at home We are not at home We are not at home We are not at home We are not at home We are not at home
We are not at home We are not at home We are not at home We are not at home We are not at home We are not at home
Hang on the telephone Hang on the telephone Hang on the telephone Hang on the telephone
Compositores: Dante Nicholas Decaro, Hadji Noah Bakara (da Viper), Daniel William Howard Boeckner, Spencer Krug, Arlen Robert Thompson ECAD: Obra #17976140