i'm part of the backlash, baby.
and i'm taking you all out with me.
cuz i've searching for some final restitution
for the desperate and the disparate and oh
i've been waking up in total dissolution
by the boot that's kicking in your front door…
and i'm sick of it all now honey.
and i've been thinking about how all of this… how it began.
how it started with some sense of obligation
but now i'm thinking about more and more,
how it ended with your hands behind your back
they got you lying face down on the floor…
and of you that night,
and the faraway look of remorse in your eyes,
when you crawled by my side
and said "hey life is hard enough without these reminders
that the buzzing in your ears don't stop,
the clicking and the caution and oh,
there was a time when i thought that it was worth it
but i can't say that i do anymore."
you were the frost, the precipitation,
floating down soft and accumulated.
cooling, the shock slowly dissipated
once the temperature dropped.
and you were the demonstration of
our degenerated will
when like herculaneum all covered in ash,
all i could think about was
you in the frost, the precipitation,
floating, that shock slowly dissipated,
cooling into some sort of soft delirium.
and i wake in a fright just feeling further and farther apart.
from the planes taking flight,
and their engines, they roar as they start on up into the sky,
with a pain in my head and an ache in my heart,
as i crawl back to bed, i know i'm finally part,
as the bombs start to drop i know i'm finally part
of the backlash, baby.