“I hope to Christ it’s the soundstage,”
Clara spat through her teeth
With no idea how right she was
Or the meaning underneath
These simple words
And thus the fire’s burning
Iron doors are blowing—
Open wide for a final silent scream
The innocents of Paris was interrupted at the time
But it was still released in 1929
And it’s a crude but apt analogy
And though change may bring agony
Sound and image always would align
Maybe it was just a funny accent
Maybe it was just a stupid
Voic-ing all the reasons it should stay the same
But they never had a choicе
Maybe it was due to their abilitiеs
Or lack thereof
Their begging—
Pleasing to the eye, but not the ear
Cries rise and fall from the smallest voice
Clara spat through her teeth
With no idea how right she was
Or the meaning underneath
These simple words
And thus the fire’s burning
Iron doors are blowing—
Open wide for a final silent scream
The innocents of Paris was interrupted at the time
But it was still released in 1929
And it’s a crude but apt analogy
And though change may bring agony
Sound and image always would align
Maybe it was just a funny accent
Maybe it was just a stupid
Voic-ing all the reasons it should stay the same
But they never had a choicе
Maybe it was due to their abilitiеs
Or lack thereof
Their begging—
Pleasing to the eye, but not the ear
Cries rise and fall from the smallest voice
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