Well your brother's a liar, and your sister's a faker.
And someday they'll be home wrecker and maker, in neighborhoods of dreams, with crime fighting teams. Recycling those cars that end up on their lawns and don't you forget the image in your retina,
to foresee the future,
to find a use for...
Them telling me, everything that would happen to me anyway.
If it isn't science, it doesn't exist,
we make our own problems and blame them on birds and bees but we ain't seen nothing yet,
and don't you ever forget it.
Well your mom was the queen, and dad was the farmer, now we're all covered in aerosol armor, singing God's out to get us with his army of wings, Mother Nature's militia of precision stings and those petals in your pockets, mosquitoes will swarm, to foresee the future, before it takes form.
Please tell me, every sting to hit me in this heat wave. Please tell me, everything that would happen to me anyway...
If it isn't fire it doesn't exist, we've all come to burn and learned to love it, better answer your heart before it blows apart. And don't you ever forget it. Please tell me everything that would happen to me anyway.
Writer/s: Chris Otepka / Troubled Hubble