A Painting of All of Our Deaths

Despondence and new apparitions
And words that don't mean a damned thing
Bad luck or just superstition?
Like an old boat that knows it can sink

Mirror and smoke realizations
When it's finally clear that nothing is true
Like a doctor that lies to a patient
And says, "We did all that we can do"

There's a Rembrandt at the top of the stairs
It's a painting of all of our deaths
And in its deep Red Sea that's full of greed
It's clear to see nothing is left
But a lone voice cries out through the screams
And says, "All we can do now is sing"
And it does, yes it does
In a sound so pure
That even the gods, they find peace
They sing la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la
They sing la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la

Utopias of backwards devotion
And fancy clothes that prove they are right
Anything to fulfill a quotient
So that body bags for money is alright

Cynical class inhibition
And promises that are never kept
Strong and proud false erudition
Like a man with a puppeteer's neck

There's a Rembrandt at the top of the stairs
It's a painting of all of our deaths
And in its deep Red Sea that's full of greed
It's clear to see nothing is left
But a lone voice cries out through the screams
And says, "All we can do now is sing"
And it does, yes it does
In a sound so pure
That even the gods, they find peace
They sing la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la
They sing la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la

There's a Rembrandt at the top of the stairs
It's a painting of all of our deaths
And in its deep Red Sea that's full of greed
It's clear to see nothing is left
But my lone voice cries out through the screams
But no one around can hear me
My mouth's gone deaf
And my eyes can't see
But it's there that the gods, they find peace
They sing la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la
They sing la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la