And your grace is all I find
Don't tell me to toe the line
You're out of your goddamn mind
And my government's fine
The raindrops are falling fast
The buckets aren't built to last
The bartender shakes her head
She turns to her wine instead
Is it the alcohol
Is it the lead
Is it the acrobat silhouettes of things we left unsaid
You can't understand, my dear, it's already dead
There's fire on my fingertips
There's raindrops on my bed
This isn't the end
And your grace is all find
And apathy's on the line
A calamity so divine
But it's so hard to find
The cobbler is making bread
He kneads the past in his head
He picks at his grapevine, thinks he's doing fine
But he's just drinking wine
Is it the alcohol
Is it the lead
Is it the acrobat silhouettes of things we left unsaid
You can't understand, my dear, it's already dead
There's fire on my fingertips
There's raindrops on my bed
This isn't the end
And your grace is all I find
Don't tell me to toe the line
You're out of your goddamn mind