The emptiness that we confess
in the dimmest hour of day
in automatown they make a sound
like the low sad moan of prey
The emptiness that we confess
in the dimmest hour of day
in automatown they make a sound
like the low sad moan of prey
the bitter taste the hidden face
of the lost forgotten child
the darkest need the slowest speed
the debt unreconciled
these photographs mean nothing
to the poison that they take
before a moment's glory
the light begins to fade
the awful cost of all we lost
as we looked the other way
we've paid the price of this cruel device
till we've nothing left to pay
the river goes where the current flows
the light we must destroy
events conspire to set afire
the methods we employ
these dead men walk on water
cold blood runs through their veins
the angry river rises
as we step into the rain
these photographs mean nothing
to the poison that they take
the angry river rises
as we step into the rain
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