We hear the dealers with the words

that ride the tails

Of their cigarette smoke

Sliding through the tunnels of our ears

Those greasy marionettes of

Real bone and blood

Stand on the corner of Washington Square

Vision stining

Eyes blurring

Elevator's got you rising so high

17 floors you want so much more

Elevator's got you rising so high

17 floors you want so much more

There's lightning on the ceiling

Coming from the corner of her eye...

Somewhere horses flee from thunder

Somewhere the bones of a cat

Are buried under a garden

Well there's a radio on

Broken songs empty digression

Won't be long to you and me are gone from here

Lightning on the ceiling

Coming from the corner of her eye...