there's lots of kids in these towns who sound like lions   or at least they do in their own heads   and they're layin' down in their graves and waitin'   'cause it's never too soon to prepare, they said   for when it's coming for all of us   when we'll all sprout wings and we're lined with dust   and we're spread out over the sands that we're breathin'   and it appears to me that we're achievin'   the very same thing that they are grievin' for      and they straighten their spines out, and you can feel the cracks   that echo across those railroad tracks   where they all converge and then all depart   and the strings they pull are finally torn apart   and they're tangled, and they're hanged, and they're finally left   in the ruins of your lives and the traces of your breath   but you're not tethered to the earth by your own death   ya know, you're set free   (or at least that's what I'm told)      but don't ask me what you're supposed to trust   we're left there frozen and wet with rust   like we were just born   right then      and we were left to scrape ourselves from the floor   and the only thing you can ask for is more   violence and i can't do that, i know   so these kids all bury their heads in the snow   so they won't have to worry and they don't have to know   and i won't have to know, either   well, i believe in the great deciever.