Lyrics

At the city end of the block,
At the pointy ended stick,
There’s a place where we were carpenters.
There’s an empire where we lived.
There’s no money in the rent box.
And there’s a letter on the fridge.
There’s a man who wants us out of here,
There’s a place where we can stick…

…All of our stuff
As though our lives mean nothing.
We had supposed that destination
Would never die.
That hallowed scene,
That simple life
Would take a little more then hammering and
Arguments to keep on all the lights.
Now we drink to spoiled wine.

The last tram screams ‘round the corner
And disappears into the air.
Someone else is on the balcony,
Same state of disrepair.
There are houses where the walls come down
And half the bands have broken up
And an Englishman will sing
“There’s a girl I’ll spend my winters with
And file memories under…

…All our stuff
Now that our lives mean something.”
All of your cold investigation
Could work out fine.
We had a scene,
A simple life.
We’ll take small comfort in the memory of Elgin St
And everyone inside.
Now we live on borrowed time.

Saw my buddies at the corner pub.
“Haven’t seen you guys on years…”