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!