| We are the sainted millions where the howling black birds fly
|
| Hand in hand we walk on through while the tracers pass us by
|
| We are the tainted living on the piss stained old barstools
|
| So raise a pint for those below who are singing beneath our shoes
|
| Sleeping sainted millions can you tell me what you know?
|
| Sing to me a song you wrote beneath your pile of stone
|
| The writings on the granet read so trite and insincere
|
| What do ya feel ya missed about the dash between the years?
|
| Well, I would have laughed with a maniacal cry
|
| At some of the things that lead to being kept awake at night
|
| The more you see, the more you grow from Montreal to Tokyo
|
| So ride the highs and take the lows
|
| And I wouldn’t trade it for another, and I would do it all again
|
| And I would treat it like a lover, runaway and take it by the hand
|
| Sleeping sainted millions can you tell me what you know
|
| Cut down by a bullet from the rifle of a foe
|
| Stripped and stacked and piled and cleaned and lined up in a row
|
| Packed upon a clipper ship and chucked into a hole
|
| But it’s not the end that we need to revive
|
| It’s your compatriot’s remembrances that make you come alive
|
| The more you see, the more you grow from Montreal to Tokyo
|
| So ride the highs and take the lows
|
| And I wouldn’t trade it for another, and I would do it all again
|
| And I would treat it like a lover, runaway and take it by the hand
|
| Sleeping sainted millions, can you tell me what you know?
|
| Sing to me a song you wrote beneath your pile of stone
|
| The questions never answered left a ringing in your ear
|
| You walked around these haunted grounds a thousand times a year
|
| And the song in your head is a personified lie
|
| There’s comfort in a bottle and there’s comfort in a sky
|
| With all the time you’ll wash away you’ll fall in line and joined the ranks
|
| Of those who lived and died among their day
|
| And I wouldn’t trade it for another, and I would do it all again
|
| And I would treat it like a lover, runaway and take it by the hand
|
| And I wouldn’t trade it for another, and I would do it all again
|
| And I would treat it like a lover, runaway and take it by the hand |