I’ve been awake for hours
As I watch the sunrise come over nothing
And then outside, the cars start racing
Searching for something that we could never seem to find or afford

And maybe I owe the Devil a little something
Just to keep things stable
Because last night, I realized I was nothing more
Than just a serpent for his plans

Chamberlain’s waiting down at the bottom of the city of hell
Or heaven itself
As the whistle she sings
My hands building weapons for kings
While somebody’s drinking my last ration of victory gin
I’m sober as sin
As my hands start to shake
I fill with post-modern debates
While Chamberlain’s waiting

Build our mistakes to the clouds
Then blame us for dreaming out loud