rain like tin angels falling down like a mission and we re halfway there from some old dried up fried forgotten town why won t they let us be ourselves with our potential we could toe the line and show the bastards up with our divine light light light light seize all the records from the past hold for ransom all the artifacts this ragged town protects them to the last with lies lies lies lies see them running heading homeward to seattle deem all the liars in your tribe to be the fires on the western side of some old front we call the war of art rain like tin angels falling down like a mission and we re halfway there from some old dried up fried forgotten town from some old dried up fried forgotten town to some dried up fried up forgotten town