There's someone running through the ramp parkade Spilling out over the sides like brush fire Burning the roof top concrete And bouncing off pillars in the oil stain dark Stabbing out holes in white walls Wrist wrapped fist Let it out! let it out! Cutting though clothes I keep a close eye on the skyline Who's in the paper and who sings the blues Who sits down at the back Who stands in line Who's got nothing else left to lose Stabbing out holes in white walls Wrist wrapped fist Let it out! let it out! Cutting though clothes Seriously loud This is a serious town Violently not making a sound