Archaeologist symbol in handnAnd a symbol of a couplet torn at the waistnI’m waitingnPeering through necropolis streetsnAnd I heard it once before but I don’t understandnWhy the skies still scream onnnMaybe we could send another kid to JapannMy heart was flowing, overwhelmingnSpeaking in a language that I can’t understandnMy brain was pumping informationnI won’t be another piece of meat of a mannI’d rather be the singer in a rock and roll bandnBut tell the kids that it’s just rock and rollnAnd tell the kids that we’re going downnnSo open againnYou know the music’s so cold and it isn’t the samenAnd we’re leavingnHow could we as humans forget?nAll the numbers and the ghosts that keep you alivenAnd the beating heart stringsnnMaybe we could send another kid to JapannMy heart was flowing, overwhelmingnSpeaking in a language that I can’t understandnMy brain was pumping informationnI won’t be another piece of meat of a mannI’d rather be the singer in a rock and roll bandnBut tell the kids that it’s just rock and rollnAnd tell the kids that we’re going downnnI’m counting down the hours till I’m seeing my babynOver the bridgewaynI’m counting down the hours till I’m seeing my babynOver the bridgewaynI’m counting down the hours till I’m seeing my babynOver the bridgewaynI’m counting down the hours till I’m seeing my babynOver the bridgeway