Centro-Matic
Every Single Switch
The secret's losing stock, and we were finally listeningDoors were set for eight, the show was set for sevenAnd throughout the evening she covered the tables with cork and old knivesAnd bandaged all the cuts that her heart was keepingAnd we were singing with no restrictions or dramas to tear us apartCounting up our vices together and planning forever with our paper heartsAnd all the silhouettes in the room would be willing to help from the startEvery single switch, and every single solderDirections on the box for every single fatherOn how to make some faint connection with their sons who've cut their own pathWith dirt between their nails and peace in their souls
From Letras Mania