American primitive
In a great awakening
Remembers the future
Already passed
and the spirit has taken me
and the spirit has shaken me
the spirit uncoils
and strangles itself
reversal of fortune
the pick of the litter
the shadow of torture
a conspiracy riddle
its already passed
In a city of nets
There’s a old stampede
The signal fires burn
In the thick of the weeds
And the excuses we’ve got
Are the excuses we need
We live by night
Till we’ve used it up
We live by night
Forsake me not
And the excuses we’ve got
Are the excuses we need
And we live
We live by night
Till we’ve used it up
Forsake me not