To the Deaf

We grow up in these buildings of concrete and stress We're brutal as brutalist gets We dream of the straight lines And nights where we won't find a reason to dream up the rest And we're still waiting So sing for these heartbreaks These breaches and beachheads For scars on a landscape alive It's been a bad year for death So here's making the most of what's left My throat might be wrecked But I don't think I'll stop 'til I'm deaf A ghost in your bedroom The wind on the platform I'm swept through these tunnels And sat with this bottle I'm starting to see why you're so far from sober I'm starting to shake like my father And we're still waiting Oh patience So once as explorers And twice as just tourists Let's settle for a good night as proof of life It's been a bad year for death So here's making the most of what's left My throat might be wrecked But I don't think I'll stop 'til I'm deaf 1, 2, 3, Magic!