Rain like tin angels falling down
Like a mission and we're halfway there
From some old dried-up, fried, forgotten town
Why won't they let us be ourselves?
With our potential we could toe the line
And show the bastards up with our divine
Light, light, light, light
Seize all the records from the past
Hold for ransom all the artifacts
This ragged town protects them to the last
With lies, lies, lies, lies
See them running
Heading homeward
To Seattle
Deem all the liars in your tribe
To be the fires on the western side
Of some old front we call the war of art
Rain like tin angels falling down
Like a mission and we're halfway there
From some old dried-up, fried, forgotten town
From some old dried-up, fried, forgotten town
To some old dried-up, fried, forgotten town
