D​.​C.

If "headlines" means chemistry, then bring me a light
We must somehow escape these sterile red lines
So this is the point
You're in this just like me, the pretense is bright
But every clock in here is eager to fight
And they have the choice
Not nearly as good at lying as you
But nature's mistake could be your ticket to
My Waterloo

Yesterday maybe these people, as friends
In my tragic comedy, play roles and then
Head towards their homes
Tomorrow, perhaps, it's the same, but today
They just need to get the fuck out of my way
And leave us alone
You need my help to correct my mistake
You'll need another to help cut your cake
And remind you you've grown
This generation won't heed us, believers
Can never, can't ever, cannot get away

This is strange to me; it's unreal to me
I just don't believe that Santa Claus is coming to town
It's obscure to me, it's obscene to me
I just can't believe that Jesus Christ was born on this night
I have an arm
I have an arm

Wine without a bottle, I am
Soak me in
Key and you've one only lock
Make me your sin
Spine, your pages falling everywhere
So, within
Wine without a bottle I am