Seventy-four, Seventy-five

Seventy-four
Seventy-five
He's getting used to it now
How each one falls away in that hoary light
And they are gone
Gone from the age
Gone from the guards and their hands
It's no different today than years gone by

But it won't come out alive
With his hands so thin and white

Gone
Gone from the age
Then he is gone from your eyes
As that splintering wave takes so many lives
And now your hands
Gripping the edge of such a waste
Where every angel looks dead
Every face a lie

And you won't come out tonight
With your hands so thin and white
Alive

Seventy-four
Seventy-five
Daddy, come back to me now
I would beat them away
I would pull you out
I would wash every cinder from your eyes
And with silver and gold
I would adorn you

I'll let it all come out tonight
When they peel me out alive
Alive