The saints are sleeping in the walls We traded the circle for a byte of the glow One song used to pull the whole room in Now every window burns its own quiet show The campfire we built from the same three chords Now flickers in rooms that never touch the warmth The web keeps feeding what it thinks we need But the spark that jumped from eye to eye Got lost somewhere between the real and the dream The machine can play the notes but it can’t feel the sting.. We bend the notes but the code will never feel the Embers in the feed, let them burn anyway The last real fire is the one we make When the code goes quiet and the strings still shake He sang of Liam like a story from the edge A mirror where the perfect face has no eyes to see The other one still points to the hand on the neck The bend that comes from years of being free To play it ugly until it tells the truth To let the wrong note be the one that sets you free And somewhere in the universe the signal breaks A hum cuts through the haze For one suspended second the rooms collapse And we remember how the fire used to blaze Old bones in separate houses hum the same refrain The wild instinct that no server can contain The machine can play the notes but it can’t feel the sting.. We bend the notes but the code will never feel the Embers in the feed, let them burn anyway The last real fire is the one we make When the code goes quiet and the strings still shake Plenty of room in the space between the streams… For the fire that won’t load For the song that won’t fade For the callus on the finger That the future can’t erase
