Of Montreal Forecast Fascist Future
The language of the frost lobs dead balloons over ruins
today,
In view of wan wordless crowds that chase waifs to
spires with fiery plumes,
And incite the firmament's portrait of a drowning in
Styx that gives impotents kicks.
Boredom murders the heart of our age while sanguinary
creeps take the stage...
Boredom strangles the life from the printed page.
Masking vapor trails from Mercury for a killer on
Umbria,
Who crippled birch mares now briars replace their old
cotton limbs.
Who will tell? I mean, would it make a difference?
Look, metal flower-petal tears do not even appear in
the myopic mirror.
Boredom murders the heart of our age while sanguinary
creeps take the stage...
Boredom strangles the life from the printed page.
The moon was sagging in the sky as I held her face to
mine,
All our thoughts were coming in so clear beyond the
myopic mirror.
We were darting from the place where we just couldn't
fit,
Far away from all the violence, safely flying in our
own orbit.
Why do I always have to tell you -- forget about the
prescient signs, forget about the life we knew.
May we never be stripped of anything we love, may we
grow so gentle, never go mental.
May we never go, go mental... may we always stay, stay
gentle...
May we never go, go mental... may we always stay, stay
gentle...
May we never go, go mental... may we always stay, stay
gentle...
May we never go, go mental... may we always stay, stay
gentle
gentle
gentle
Boredom murders the heart of our age while sanguinary
creeps take the stage...
Boredom strangles the life from the printed page.
What was my number? What was my number? I don't care!
