Fading Vibes

When we were little kids
We tried the seven deadly sins
In the attic, every summertime
In the attic, every summertime
The wet felt, smelling, silent kind
We'd play light as a feather
Stiff as a board
And you'd press to my hips
As we'd slip through the floor

The grey, grey ghost is coming out
Of the bright, white sheet that was wrapped about him
The shade, shade, shade could have been mistaken
But I swear that the sunlight was shooting straight through him

Let's make a mess of this banquet
While your bones are soaked in blood
When your skin and cells are bankrupt
You'll be deposit in the dust
Let's try to stay soft
Remember to bend
The chance to get supple may not come again
'Cause in time, you will find rigor mortis sets in
'Cause in time, you will find rigor mortis sets in

Well, I failed and I failed
But my failures were passing
Grew hair and a tail
And was all the while asking
"Does it stay like this?"
And, "Will it end like this?"
"Does it stay like this?"
And, "Will it end like this?"

I'm afraid that you're fading away
You're not coming in clear
I'm afraid that the games that we've played
Have turned desperate and dear

Let's try to stay soft
Remember to bend
The chance to get supple may not come again
'Cause in time, you will find rigor mortis sets in
'Cause in time, you will find rigor mortis sets in

Well, I failed and I failed
But my failures were passing
Grew hair and a tail
And was all the while asking
"Does it stay like this?"
And, "Will it end like this?"
"Does it stay like this?"
And, "Will it end like this?"

All that you cherish will perish
All that you punish will pass
I know you'll hit the ground running
When you ditch the road at last

Well, we failed and we failed
But our failures were passing
Grew hair and a tail
And were all the while asking
"Does it stay like this?"
And, "Will it end like this?"
"Is this supposed to hurt
Or are we sensitive?"

There'll be no red rose the day you die
There'll be flies 'round your nose
And rings 'round your eyes
The clock ticks on
We don't have a say
We let one hand wash the other's dirt away

We're doing way too much
We do it way too often
What used to be a crutch
Has become a coffin
It's been good to be alive
But I've simply got to go
Someone's on the other line
And they're calling for my soul