The end, oh, the end
Oh, hungry days in the footsteps of fools
Oh, I grow weary of the end
We live again
When will children learn to let their wildernesses burn
The end, oh, the end
The end, oh, the end
Gazing alone through sex painted windows
Stink like colognes from a new fangled wasteland
Where the castaways look so deranged
We live again
Love is a plague in a mix match parade
We live again
Over the hill, a desolate wind
Turns shit to gold and blows my soul crazy
Sifted through sand and leftover nightmares
And love will be new, never cold and vacant
Dredging the night, drunk libertines
These withered hands have dug for a dream
Oh, I grow weary of the end
