[Verse 1] Hundreds of nuclear missiles hang still over the sleeping city No one moves in the windows, no one reaches for the phone Then a pale cold light opens high overhead And we all know, at once, something bigger is looking down The traffic hum drops out like a machine unplugged A dog stops barking two blocks over Somebody in a lobby keeps the elevator door open Staring at the floor numbers like they might change [Chorus] The baker on Cedar still has the ovens on The corner store still glows behind its metal grate Every radio in every kitchen cuts to static Before anybody gets there in time You can feel the whole block lean inward Like a breath held too long Like the building itself is waiting For a sound that won’t come [Verse 2] The laundromat sign keeps blinking by the bus stop A kid’s bike lies on its side in the alley Down the street, one porch light stays on Over a chair with a coat folded over it No one says it out loud, but everybody hears it In the stairwells, in the pipes, in the glass That thin, bright nothing hanging up there Making strangers out of every room [Chorus] The baker on Cedar still has the ovens on The corner store still glows behind its metal grate Every radio in every kitchen cuts to static Before anybody gets there in time You can feel the whole block lean inward Like a breath held too long Like the building itself is waiting For a sound that won’t come
