Besedila: A Silver Mt. Zion. Microphones In The Trees.

Microphones in the trees
Cameras in the sky
Antennas in the canyon
And the lobby's full of spies
For us who are like bulldozers
Sleeping in the sun
For us who are like lightning
Buried in the mud

Don't! Give! Up!
Don't! Give! In!

Our time will come
'Cause we are the flood

So grab my hand
Lets set some fires
The city's piss
All hung with wires
To kiss a tit
Or have one's tit kissed
On bended knee
It's all you need
Let's build ships
Let's drift away
Our mighty fleet must float again

We are the flood