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lyrics

Make up your face and dress in despair, then pick a place and time to share. Give me the floor, the podium’s mine. I am the silence you can’t find.

Shed a tear, turn into song, paint it black, and they will sing along.

We are all alone but through pain and style we grow. Take your culture, flip it all around, and we claim ourselves profound. We ride with empty hands.

So eat all the bread and drink up the wine. You have my word you will be fine. Be my recruits with studs on your belts. Now you must feel the way I’ve felt. And we’ll preach two plus two is five, up is down, and the dead are all alive.

We are all alone but through pain and style we grow. Take your culture, flip it all around, and we claim ourselves profound. We ride with empty hands.

Shed a tear, turn into song, paint it black, and they will sing along.

We are all alone but through pain and style we grow. Take your culture, flip it all around, and we claim ourselves profound. We ride with empty hands.

credits

from The Modern Standard, released June 1, 2012
Recorded and mixed by Andreas Magnusson at Planet Red; Richmond, VA.
Produced by Andreas Magnusson and These City Limits
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These City Limits Indianapolis, Indiana

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