Music for Sport On Thursday - Hasenchat Music

Falling from the top floor your lungs Fill like parachutes The windows go rushing by The people inside they're Dressed for the funeral in black and white These ties strangle our necks, hanging in the closet Filed in the cubicle Without a name, just numbers On the resume stored in the mainframe, marked for delete Please take these hands Throw them in the river Wash away the things they never held Please take these hands Throw me in the river Don't let me drown before the workday ends Nine to five! Nine to five! And we're up to our necks Drowning in the seconds Ingesting the morning commute Lost in a dead subway sleep Now we lie awake in our parents beds Tossing and turning Tomorrow we'll get up Drive to work Single file With everyday Just like the last Waiting for the life to start Is it always just always ahead of the curve Please take these hands Throw them in the river Wash away the things they never held Please take these hands Throw me in the river Don't let me drown before the workday ends Just keep making copies Of copies Of copies When will it end? It'll never end 'Til it gets so bad That the ink fills in our fingerprints And the silhouette of your own face becomes the black cloud of war And even in our dreams we're so Afraid the weight will offset who we are All those breaths that you took have now been cancelled in your lungs Last night my teeth fell out like Ivory typewriter keys And all the monuments and skyscrapers burned down and filled the sea Save our ship The anchor is part of the desk We can't cut free The water is flooding the decks The memos sent through the currents Computers spark like flares I can see them They don't touch me Touch me Please someone Teach me how to swim Please, don't let me drown Please, don't let me drown