Broadcast Alert Lyrics

Congrats you scored lower

Congrats you're hungover

We can go a little slower

What's her name

Don't think I know her

She's after your money

Pursed lips and piercing eyes

Some might say she's cunning

Take that operation by surprise

You used to be running

Losing what traction you had

Action in the back of a van

Jackson-bound on a map

Mixing your paints into black

Passing a bottle around a fire

Crashing in tents made of iron

Matching each donor to a victim

Getting back to mint condition

Listen up this is the vision

Wishing we had some of your wisdom

On a mission to christen the bow

Switching sides but never know how

Melting down in a cage

Pelting comment boards with rage

Dealt in for a game of roulette

Until our feet got wet

Pounding down protruding nails

She fails to post bail

Backed up against the fence

In the citadel of Arendelle

In ballet shoes

She wails from the deck

Dead leaves on the steps

Summer long gone

Humming a siren song

For as long as she's along

To make it all feel futuristic

Guess we're waiting

As you're optimistic

While we're levitating

Up and over skyscrapers

Up and over lakes and mountains

Up and over wishing wells

Fishing ponds and fountains

Up and over black mornings

Broadcast alert and amber warnings

It still hurts

They were total drags

In a circle jerk

Still out of work

Getting government checks

Who wants to bet

The sun will set

After they're wrecked

Be that person now

Disavow those broken souls

You've got more pull than you know

Get in the yacht

We're headed up the coast

And it's time to grow

Time for maturation

Time for a true vocation

Acclimation to a brand new position

And fixation on a strange condition

More frustration and more inflation

But you've got a per diem

And it's almost time for you to see 'em

So stand proud for photo shoots

Grassroots and jackboots

Waving goodbye before you arrive

Deep in your mind losing time

Posting stats and angry signs

You're waiting for yours

I'm waiting for mine

I'm waiting for this line to move

To waste more money

To waste more talent

To waste more minutes

To settle that business

And find another witness

You're due for a visit

But its just sounds like crickets

Dead air, dead streets

Dead eyes, dead or deceased

Soaking wet in a robe

Gasoline from head to toe

Blank expression, broken gaze

One matchstick away from an all-consuming blaze

Counting down the days

Stuck in that maze

Stuck in your ways

Need more time

19th in line like Rutherford B. Hayes

It's probably just a phase

Falling sideways with the depraved strays

Rolling in their graves

In the stormy images raging the cats made it to the table

They were content with scraps until the rations dried up

The faceless man kept feeding the machine

But the output diminished over time

Until the bloated ghosts at the table

Were banging their silverware in unison

Chains rattling beneath

Demanding more and more and the room was ripped to shreds

Feeding it wallpaper and gold

And a it all broke down as a tiger emerged

To hunt on their indulgence

Then the faceless man took it down

But he heard cats inside and cut them out

They moved to another room in the same dreary hotel

And the cycle repeats itself