Slept Through a Landslide (Tired Angels Remix)

In the end you just get tired... tired of the struggle; tired of losing everyone that matters to you
Tired of watching everything turn to dust
That's a price worth paying
Is it?

My angels, my angels are tired
I get sleepy

Hell is nearly frosted and I'm feeling exhausted
Used to have direction, but now I've completely lost it
Tossing and turning, yearning for more
Dirt on the floor, foot through the door, search and report
Serpent of war, smoked out herbivore
"No man is an island," yeah, I've heard that before
Well, you certainly will drown off the shore, rotten to the core
Me and Jesse D is like hip-hop galore
Walking in croc skin, toxic waste written on my face
Frostbitten and lost without a trace
I might be sour, but you have no taste
And the mischief is a source of my grace
Crack statues open with lack of emotion
I've got wanderlust so I splash the vast ocean
The balance dangles, just like a pendulum
So go to sleep, beneath, my sweet Seraphim

My angels, my angels are tired
Dreams of falling asleep
I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed
But I'm STILL depressed
Life is good, but why am I so miserable, then

Burning my bridges at both ends, persistent cough
Laboured breathing. Easy on the syrup, a little wheezy
Twisting off caps, feeling effects of distortion
Reeling from dextromethorphan; drifting off
Sex is important, sleep is for the weekend, Hell is
Round the corner, it's tricky to rock-a-bye, we can tell
Dreaming of a Sopwith Camel cockpit, your dog soars
Me and twenty-three is like shoplift from stores
Rip off the gift shops and downtown boutiques
Count down to lift-off in new sneaks; push you in the
Bushes like Musique; it drips on the floor
Me and Krista Muir is like kids on a tour
Gone to war with ominous thoughts, anonymous authors of communist plots and
Omnivores when carnage is wrought, you run with McCarthy, we're punished with poverty
Often as not, it's wearing us down. Thundering ignorance, wonder and innocence
There's a new cherub in town, under the influence

My angels, my angels are tired
Surrounded by this grief, it finally took its toll
Play strings for the dramatic ending of that wack shhh

My angels, my angels are tired
See, every time my eyes close, I start sweating, and blood starts coming out my nose
The stress is building up, I cant... I can't believe
I'm on my way over there, man

My angels, my angels are tired
The real problem in a dying patient is a problem of desertion, and separation, and loneliness
We don't know what death is; we can't conceptualize it, but we all know what it's like to be alone
And afraid, and in the dark