We grow up in these buildings of concrete and stress
We're as brutal as brutalist gets
We dream of the straight lines and
nights where we won't find the reason to dream up the rest

And we're still waiting

So sing for these heartbreaks, these breaches and beach heads,
these scars on a landscape alive
It's been a bad year for death so here's making the most of what's left
My throat might be wrecked but I don't think I'll stop 'till I'm deaf

The ghost in yr bedroom, the wind on the platform
Swept through these tunnels and sat with this bottle
I'm starting to see why you're so far from sober
I'm starting to shake like my father

And we're still waiting
Oh patience

So once as explorers and twice as just tourists
I'd settle for a good night as proof of life
It's been a bad year for death so here's making the most of what's left
My throat might be wrecked but I don't think I'll stop till I'm deaf



Lyrics submitted by NickDS

To the Deaf song meanings
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