St. Broadrick Is In Antarctica

I know you don't want change But nothing is ever what it used to be Grab the rope, hoist yourself up With a copy in head Comforted by lions of substance A solutive parade Grab the rope, hoist yourself up And drift like ants in hose water These three angels used to be attorneys It is such a serious thing to me Oh how I search through the memories It is such an experience for me Silence creating bold letters like "not" and "better" These three devils used to be apologies These three angels used to be monuments I try to find that feeling from that letter from my consistencies Is such a painful thing to see when the shadows didn't bend Like now and then These three devils used to be apostrophes So I destroyed a monument, so what I know you don't want change But nothing is ever what it used to be Grab the rope, hoist yourself up With a copy in head Comforted by lions of substance A solutive parade Grab the rope, hoist yourself up And drift like ants in hose water --- St. Broadrick Is in Antarctica - The Sound of Animals Fighting