Four thousand four hundred days and we're still swimming deeper
Two nameless decades, now our memories going to the inferno
We get so lost sometimes filling holes that don't need fixing
The tide is rushing under foot, we're walking heavy
Poor hunter named Stan and his youngest daughter Rita
ran all the way into Chicago, got lost in the winter
They'd get so cold sometimes, crossing train tracks lifting rations
And light under a sea and bridge he'd sit and tell her
How some people don't change, I think they're strange, so do you
Out of their range, I feel the rage coming soon
Dancing
Dancing on the edge of our graves
Dancing on the edge of our
Dancing
Dancing on the edge of our graves
Dancing on the edge of our
We're dancing on the edge of our graves
Four thousand four hundred days and we're still swimming deeper
Two nameless decades, now our memories going to the inferno
We get so lost sometimes filling holes that don't need fixing
And hiding footprints in the snow, we're walking heavy
Now some people are strange, I hope they change, so do you
Out of their range, I feel the a** coming took us soon
Dancing
Dancing on the edge of our graves
Dancing on the edge of our
Dancing
Dancing on the edge of our graves
Dancing on the edge of our
We're dancing on the edge of our graves
Dancing
Dancing on the edge of our graves
Dancing on the edge of our
Dancing
Dancing on the edge of our graves
Dancing on the edge of our