Cities and Years Every Time I Die

Play with the bow at the bridge
Tune your voices to minor chords
This is the lowest we've ever been until we bend for the offering
We're giving a knee jerk response to the awe

We come strapped to the bed, on display from the duty of tour
They picked up the signals we tapped to the visitors
And our sea legs were lost
On the march from the graves to the cross
We brandish the plague of the middleman's heart

Sing the rats through the gate

I was still in one piece when they tied me to the back of the car
But I met the road and I've slept with thousands of miles since the day I was born
Our shoes are milled to the sole and our souls are skin and bones
If I'm but a stranger still just move the severed pieces around

So coarse is the world
We're going back and forth and back and forth
Grinding our bodies into dust

We'll never make it home alive
We'll never make it home alive
We'll never make it home alive
Play with the bow at the bridge