We Live Again

These withered hands have dug for a dream sifted through sand and leftover nightmares over the hill a desolate wind turns shit to gold and blows my soul crazy the end of the end we live again oh, I grow weary of the end oh, hungry days in the footsteps of fools gazing alone through sex-painted windows dredging the lake drunk libertines stink like colognes from a new-fangled wasteland the end of the end we live again oh, I grow weary of the end love is a plague in a mix-matched parade where the castaways look so deranged when will children learn to let their wildernesses burn and love will be new never cold and vacant these withered hands have dug for a dream sifted through sand and leftover nightmares the end of the end we live again oh, I grow weary of the end