Coilguns Watchwinders
This premonition is breaking our hearts
There's no illusion no magic words just simple facts
We were doomed to success and missed our call our second act
Now we wish we were born a century before the clash
We don't forecast
Oooh I wish we were born before the crash
A hundred years before we consciously forfeited our task
Get a second chance, just one, to wind our watch
We would off course be thankful enough for fixing our botch
We never act
We don't forecast
We can feel it coming
And the fear is growing
While the clock is ticking
And our chances grow dim
