The city has sex with itself, I suppose
As the concrete collides while the scenery grows
And the lonely, once bandaged, lay fully exposed
Having undressed their wounds for each other

And there's a boy in a basement with a four-track machine
He's been strumming and screaming all night down there
The tape hiss will cover the words that he sings
They say it's better to bury your sadness
In a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring
To awake from its sleep
And burst into green

Well, I've cried
And you'd think I'd be better for it
But the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine
For the rest of my life

And I've learned
And you'd think I'd be something more now
But it just goes to show it is not what you know
It is what you were thinking at the time

This feeling's familiar, I've been here before
In a kitchen this quiet I waited for
A sign or just something that might reassure me of anything close
To meaning or motion with reasons to move
I need something I want to be close to

And I scream
But I still don't know why I do it
'Cause the sound never stays, it just swells and decays
So what is the point?

Why try to fight what is now so certain?
The truth is all that I am is a passing event
That will be forgotten