it's the end of instinct for the marginalized
since this the farthest we'll go
with our lives we are the wreckage
spilling our art we are the suckers
with the shattered hearts condemned
I say born this way determined to die
picked up a bloodtrail from miles away
where voices collide like the crashing of trains
sell the scrap and ignore the remains
I sell the scrap and ignore the remains
cautiously caustically all history as an end to means
we never win so bolt the door
block out the light raise a glass
we die tonight in celebration of our flesh and bone
we'll live in the margins and die alone
as we waltz through the rubble of these bombed-out shells
and dance to the music of the go-nowheres.