Radio Wars

There’s lots of shit building
Between my radio wires
The peasant life just might cut it for me
Your smile was always too rich for my taste
The sun was always too dull for your face

We’re all martyrs
Fighting for a reason to die
To braid into the history books
We call our own

The radio men whisper to me at night
And tell me about the hues
That make up the views
I see when I look at you
And the spacemen tell me how round the moon is
So I feel at home
Every time I see her
We all got colors and we all got shapes

We’re all martyrs
Fighting for reasons to die
But if we’re lucky
We might even get to finish July
Fuck it to the history books

I made Lucifer’s bed with fright
Cause I lost my reason to die
Last night