Broken bottles and broken dreams
Set the tone for this masquerade
Light's illusion of color seems
To be all man made
Set the rhythm of the counter clock
To the beat of the metronome
And let your fingers slide across the keys
Until you hit the one that you call home
Follow the piper to the country side
And take your alarm clock and coffee machine
Plug it to a big oak tree
And dream a little dream while you drink the unseen
And see the broken and drink from the broken
To reconstruct inside
Two halves that make up one
Whilst you scream out that death itself has died
With the Broken bottles
And the broken dreams
of society's delusion