The heavens won't open for us,
We gotta make our own wings
Rummage 'round through the jungle,
Looking for paper and string
We are not always building,
Rising up to the drone,
All the time we are dreaming of a rotten throne
The chair is smothered in velvet,
Some are crusted in gold,
But it's seen better days,
It's looking weathered and old
All the wood has been beaten through years of neglect,
But we haven't been beaten,
Not just yet
The heavens won't open for us
We've got to make our own wings out of paper and string
(The heavens won't open for us)
The heavens won't open for us
We've got to make the our own wings out of paper and string
(The heavens won't open for us)
The heavens won't open for us,
So we try out our wings
We are resting our souls,
On some paper and string
Then we shake off the dust,
And we breathe in the sky,
Our wings are now beating,
Our blood is not shy
We can see the crimson gate,
It feels cold to touch,
As we reach from the blaze, we die in the rush
The heavens won't open for us
We've got to make our own wings out of paper and string
(The heavens won't open for us)
The heavens won't open for us
We've got to make our own wings out of paper and string
(The heavens won't open for us)
The heavens won't open for us
We've got to make our own wings out of paper and string
The heavens won't open for us
We've got to make our own wings out of paper and string
(The heavens won't open for us)
(The heavens won't open for us
We have to make our own wings out of paper and string)
(The heavens won't open for us
We have to make our own wings out of paper and string)
(The heavens won't open for us
We have to make our own wings out of paper and, hm, ah, string)