Distress In the Control Tower - Anatomy Of A Ghost

Distress In the Control Tower Lyrics

We're surrounded
just drop the gun!
the fields have been cut off
with stars and black windmills
the ticking clock spins out of control
Erosion claims the monuments
wires rust sets the ghost
with such hollow empty sound
breaking on its touch to eardrums
traversing these low vibrations
to an aweful piercing pitch
so tear us down
so we can cut our throats
leaving the words written in sky
no we won't put these hands down tonight
Breathing takes practice
and it's practice we missed
so we die

end transmission
we're giving up
climb the spires in hopes of
The flowing uncut grass climbs up
all in efforts to drag us down
hidden from the stand off
as if they wouldn't look
Turn the lights low
wasting precious time
wait for no one
tell it like it
Turn the lights low
wasting precious time
wait for no one
tell it like it
Turn the lights low
wasting precious time
wait for no one
tell it like it is
Turn the lights low
wasting precious time
wait for no one
tell it like it is
Turn the lights low
wasting precious time
wait for no one
tell it like it is
Turn the lights low
wasting precious time
wait for no one
tell it like it is
Breathing takes practice
and it's practice we missed
so we die
end transmission
we're giving up
climb the spires in hopes of
climb the spires in hopes of
climb the spires in hopes of
climb the spires in hopes of
We're surrounded
just drop the gun
the fields have been cut off
with stars and black windmills
we're surrounded
just drop the gun
the fields have been cut off
the ticking clock spins out of control
We're surrounded
just drop the gun
the fields have been cut off
with stars and black windmills
we're surrounded
just drop the gun
the fields have been cut off
the ticking clock spins out of control
We're surrounded
just drop the gun
the fields have been cut off
with stars and black windmills
we're surrounded
just drop the gun
the fields have been cut off
the ticking clock spins out of control
We're surrounded
just drop the gun
the fields have been cut off
with stars and black windmills
we're surrounded
just drop the gun
the fields have been cut off
the ticking clock spins out of control
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