The car's on fire, and there's no driver at the wheel.
And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides,
and a dark wind blows.

The government is corrupt,
and we're on so many drugs with the radio on
and the curtains drawn.

We are trapped in the belly of this horrible machine,
and the machine is bleeding to death.

The sun has fallen down
and the billboards are all leering
and the flags are all dead
at the top of their poles.

It went like this:

The buildings toppled in on themselves,
mothers clutching babies picked through the rubble
and pulled out their hair.

The skyline was beautiful on fire,
all twisted metal stretching upwards,
everything washed in a thin orange haze.

I said "Kiss me; you're beautiful.
These are truly the last days."
You grabbed my hand, and we fell into it.
Like a daydream,
or a fever.