I am made of the wreckage down below below (wersja 3)

Verse 1

Cracked tile cold under sneakers on the floor (cold)

Lock clicks shut on a splintered wooden door

Fluorescent buzz at a fifty-hertz hum

Chewing on the quiet while the sirens start to come

Spit in the sink, watch it swirl down the drain (drain)

Staring through the mirror with a spiderweb of pain

Pre-Chorus

Morning birds screaming on the wire

City wakes to put away the fire

They scrub the asphalt clean of every stain

I rub the soot into my ribs again (again)

Chorus

Cold ceramic on my back, water running gray (gray)

I don't want a second of their polished little day (day)

Let the clean world wake, let the whistles blow

I am made of the wreckage down below (below)

Verse 2

Chrome pipe rattling, frost on the sill (frost)

Warehouse bass vibrating still

Knuckles skinned raw from the fence in the lane

Wearing every mark like a heavy iron chain

They want velvet coats and a quiet afternoon

Give me rusted pipes and the dying of the moon

Pre-Chorus

Morning birds screaming on the wire

City wakes to put away the fire

They scrub the asphalt clean of every stain

I rub the soot into my ribs again (again)

Chorus

Cold ceramic on my back, water running gray (gray)

I don't want a second of their polished little day (day)

Let the clean world wake, let the whistles blow

I am made of the wreckage down below (below)

Bridge

Dawn bleeds grey through the frosted little square (grey)

Splash the rusty tap and inhale the heavy air

Turn the iron valve, hear the pressure hiss

Nothing in their daylight hits as hard as this

Chorus

Cold ceramic on my back, water running gray (gray)

I don't want a second of their polished little day (day)

Let the clean world wake, let the whistles blow

I am made of the wreckage down below (below)