The sorrow is an old stain
The lino is a shade of grey
They use on every lampshade
They paint it on every door and window frame
And we are like an army
An army of abandoned souls
Remember when we were kids
Invincible in everything we said and did
Late at night
That is when the wantling comes
Licking every surface clean
Digging up our long lost dreams
There's nobody here but us