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!