Sometimes I here them callnWe were so close to the waterfallnKnowing me is loosing allnTen-Thousand flys turn into ballsnLet's gonnNow fibbing to me was not that goodnA sympathy of dead woodsnFibbing to me made me feel downnI can't come to you to be foundnLet's gonnNow I got a face dull of scarsnYou were hiring on some distant starsnWe're the voices of the undergroundnFeel the vibrations of my breakdownnLet's gonnSometimes I here you callnWe were so close to the waterfallnFlys were buzzing around our headsnWhy our baby stayed in bednLet's gonLet's go