clara would be proud to know us we've taken it to the end where the grey tuens to black and the white just begins- we live everyday on the water the night just kills the pain from the suffering that was we are no stronger-we are dust- down in the crowd we're down on our knees wanna get out but don't wanna succeed we're the red-eyed legends of the night before we're the dead mind babies of the t.v. war- living in a rectory of sin against the currents we all swim cageless wonders of sometime when the paper icon's chase will end-