Cecil B. DeMille Pt. 3 Songtext

We've heard the tough talk
Of dead letter
This is the ding-dong
Of doorbells

What do you do when
The stock plummets?
You break out the eight-track
And raise hell

We are the tick-tock
The time bomb
We wanna protest
We can't show it

This is the recluse,
The goth girl
This is the rebel,
The punk poet
We are the ones who
Play actors
And we never speak 'til
The last moment

We've seen the wise ones
At their worst
We know what happens
And we blow it

We are the sunset,
The soft kiss
We are the children
Who came from it

We are the names on
The not list
We are the tune that
You're still humming

This is the wasteland,
The mall town
These are the things we
Do for it

We are the back-beat
The breakdown
We are the build-up,
The last chorus

This is the love song
You write down
When you wake up with no friends
And no money

This is the joke that
Gets passed down,
When you hear it the tenth time
It's still funny

We are the ones who
Play actors
We know what happens
And we blow it

We know for a fact that
It gets worse
And there's nothing to do now
But keep going