The Bell Jar

To be common place would be unique
But we’re so obscure we’re incoherent
Like tongueless vigilantes choking just to make you choke
Rattling, rattling
No nails to hold ideas in place, no expression on your face
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant, yeah
Like osteoporosis, she’s brittle she is broken
Brittle broken yeah
And rendered useless, yeah
Static comes through synthesizers
Megaphones and drum machines
Beauty sounds like smashed guitars
And several references to feedback
Rattling, rattling
No surgery to save your life
No promise everything’s all right
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant, yeah
Like osteoporosis she’s brittle and she is broken
Brittle broken yeah
And rendered useless, yeah
Languages must be organic because like flies they fall and die
Music now sleeps
Languages must be organic because like flies they fall and die
Music now sleeps with Latin and Aramaic
Yeah
It’s over, it’s over
No more waiting for something to live for
Yeah
It’s over, it’s over
Everything is dying and we want something more
Yeah
It’s over, it’s over
No more waiting for something to live for
Nothing
It’s over, it’s over
Everything is dying and we want something more