Street Wars/Exotic Foxholes Songtext

Is the world just a foxhole you watch

from?



Brass boots saw the war we're

winning dramatized on leering tv

screens, brittle moons breaking,

giant swans pecking at all the free

flesh.



C'mon, c'mon, let's run to the cracked
open sun.

C'mon, c'mon, let's run to the

ten-story gun.



Brass boots saw those trench-eyed

preteens spraypainting fangs onto

sanitized dreams; rich, rich,

blackbirds falling asleep in broken

bottle hot tubs.

Brass boots saw everybody

laughing, saw everybody sleeping;

and death's grin grown men cleaving million dollar debts from

the band of their own skin.



C'mon, c'mon, let's run to the cracked

open sun.

C'mon, c'mon, let's run.



The birds are burning down.