Dead Streets

On dead streets I walk on my feet, waiting for you to see me the clock strikes, but still there's no light meeting the shadows beneath me. A slow drag, a shaking hand, though I carry nothing On the ground I sound it out, for a taste of something A cracked lens, the actor pretends this is what he lives for, we can't go back to a matter or fact, or decide what's hateful The domino destroys its row, on its way to leaving the exit shakes the power plays, there's no way of healing. The gate squeaks I'm loose on my feet I can't find my way home. I'm held up, I'm left up to luck it's always hard to say no.