Winslow

Raven found herself a skinny skin stiletto

In the middle of a crowd she needs a number

Fabricating passion for her painted fellows

In the middle of a crowd she needs a lover

I want to know...

Why are we breaking bottles when this well is running dry?

Drunk on aerosol shithole paradise

Keep them guessing

Make them sweat it out all at once

We've always been

I think I'm better than them

Spirits thick as thieves the building speaks in riddles

In the middle of a crowd it needs a number

Sharpening its teeth the spirits weeping widows

In the middle of a crowd there are no others

I want to know...

Why are we breaking bottles when this well is running dry?

It's the great subliminal entertainment device

With teeth, building living ghosts

Be calm, be calm, you riders on the storm

See it for the shadowbox cannibal dance distraction

See it for the tired smoke-and-mirror display

See it for the crimson neon stained glass refraction

See it for what it is, not what you want it to be

Leave a little leather-bound miranda in the

Doorway so she won't say a thing

Make a little miserable scene out of her

I thought we were

I thought we had gone

Oh - spare the din your chloroform refrain

Pack away those old euphoria grenades

Look at all of them reaching, look at all those hands

Pulling, grabbing, pushing in the interest

Of an understanding wasteland

Winslow! Oh, winslow...

Don't look away now!