Rebels in the Rubble

Mid-September, Friday night, warm under the red glow of rye

Been a weird summer, hard on the heart

Notions of forever falling apart

We're in your apartment where it all went down

By 2AM had to get out of the house

Pulled into the stairwell by the harvest moon

Met each other in the mirror as we put on our boots

Went into the streets, where the lovers meet

Looking for a rooftop for to dangle our feet

Up and down the same streets of the same seaside town

Looking for a corner that we hadn't yet found

And a burned down office near the harbour's mouth

Offered a burned-out-cracked-concrete playground

We were rebels in the rubble, singing our trouble

Sending songs to Babylon, sending hymns to Bethlehem

Courting the moon, singing a lonesome tune

Singing the rain

Will come soon

Down to the basement, where the pigeons are

Into the backroom, into the dark

Felt more like we stood in the basement of our minds

Saw an old safe, well, we had to look inside

Say, if we really are in the basement of our minds

Should not the content of the safe glow and shine?

When we realized there was nothing to be found

You looked at me pretend profound

Said, "There's two kinds of people in any old town

Those who know that they're empty

And the ones who have yet to find out."

We were rebels in the rubble, singing our trouble

Sending songs to Babylon, sending hymns to Bethlehem

Courting the moon, singing a lonesome tune

Singing the rain

Will come soon

Leaves will be let loose

Snow will follow suit

We will be taken too