You’re the prize fighter,nWe’re the final blow.nnYou’re made of silver,nWe’re tin and stone.nnYour success is measured in your smile,nWe’re ghosts in the radio.nnChange the station.nnYou're sick with the melody,nFrom these songs filled with malady,nThe frequency decays,nThe song plays on.nnWe swim against the tide in the hourglassnAnd wonder how long we will last.nWe count the fallen acts as seasons pass,nAnd wonder how long we will last.n(Start the minute hands in motion)nThe doors they keep revolving.nThe poets keep on falling.nWe craft like thieves to bring you to your kneesnnI promise I’ll be back,nIn the form of the victory lap.nThey never heard us coming.nHit the clock,nI’m keeping time in rhythm and in rhyme,nSinging our demise,nWhile slow dancing on the shoreline.n