Texty: Brink Of Something Beautiful. New England's Dark Day.

Walk past the corner we met at - with all the cars and the traffic. We've lost the words. It's like this never happened. We tend to think of tomorrow, the day after yesterday. And though our ideas are so bright, we're still in the dark. We need input. We're artists with a block and athletes with a crutch who worship the burn in the back of our throats. It's a relief to know we were born to lead despite the fact that we're made to follow. People love to watch you fall. Stand and receive what's been made for you. When this love affair with power grows stale, like a disenchanted lover. London calling Paris, something's terribly wrong. As the message is sent, the phones go dead; it's a matter of time. And it's in that moment you'll ask why, but the answer is clearly there. We wasted so much time with our drinks in the air. London calling Paris, it seems the end is here. We wasted so much time with our drinks in the air. And though our dreams are so bright it's still so damn dark...

(Thanks to Timothy for these lyrics)