These streets are filthy with the blood of businessmen,
The haggard souls of beggars, thieves, and cheats.
The water keeps flooding in the black mud is thickening,
And the darkest corridors are where we sleep.
Tell me the story of your crooked streets
The ghost of progress never lets you rest
the grinding wheels will never sleep till we are six feet deep.
Then we'll bury all the secrets that you keep.
You were a brothel house
You were a golden road
Now an emerald tower high upon a hill
All the years have washed away
the signs of deep decay
and twisting tunnels deep below our feet.
Tell me the story of your crooked streets
The ghost of progress never lets you rest
the grinding wheels will never sleep till we are six feet deep.
Then we'll bury all the secrets that you keep.
Oh now the bridge is built then burned back to the earth.
As I sit and watch the rain erode the dirt.
Now the clouds will churn and wash the light away
All he clouds will churn and wash the light away.
I am the needle point
I am the twisted joint
and I'm wanderer of this fair golden age
I am your only friend
your cataclysmic end
and I'm the quaking ground below your shuffling feet.
Tell me the story of your crooked streets
The ghost of progress never lets you rest
the grinding wheels will never sleep till we are six feet deep.
Then we'll bury all the secrets that you keep.
Yeah we'll bury all the secrets that you keep.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS