Rebels in the Rubble

Mid-September, Friday night, warm under the red glow of rye
Been a weird summer, hard on the heart
Notions of forever falling apart
We're in your apartment where it all went down
By 2AM had to get out of the house
Pulled into the stairwell by the harvest moon
Met each other in the mirror as we put on our boots
Went into the streets, where the lovers meet
Looking for a rooftop for to dangle our feet
Up and down the same streets of the same seaside town
Looking for a corner that we hadn't yet found
And a burned down office near the harbour's mouth
Offered a burned-out-cracked-concrete playground

We were rebels in the rubble, singing our trouble
Sending songs to Babylon, sending hymns to Bethlehem
Courting the moon, singing a lonesome tune
Singing the rain
Will come soon

Down to the basement, where the pigeons are
Into the backroom, into the dark
Felt more like we stood in the basement of our minds
Saw an old safe, well, we had to look inside
Say, if we really are in the basement of our minds
Should not the content of the safe glow and shine?
When we realized there was nothing to be found
You looked at me pretend profound
Said, "There's two kinds of people in any old town
Those who know that they're empty
And the ones who have yet to find out."

We were rebels in the rubble, singing our trouble
Sending songs to Babylon, sending hymns to Bethlehem
Courting the moon, singing a lonesome tune
Singing the rain
Will come soon
Leaves will be let loose
Snow will follow suit
We will be taken too