III. In Transit

Tourist, tourist, state your purpose
Carbine, carbine, everything's fine
On a river, river, take my picture
The Holy City fall tonight
She gonna crumble, crumble, like a wafer
Placed upon a tongue so lithe
Her figure, figure slowly withers
'Til that blood flow like wine

And oh, I am nothing
A window to nothing

I'm in transit goddamnit again
I'm in between the ends
I can see where I want to be
But never where I am

Now it's winter, winter in this picture
The tides come in to fall and rise
On a mountain, mountain, shine like porcelain
And spill your sermon under moonless sky
I'm your target, target, take my heart and
Fashion weapons from the young and lithe,
You got the money, money, ain't it funny
When you're halfway to nowhere what's left from right?

And oh, I am nothing
A window to nothing

I'm in transit goddamnit again
I'm in between the ends
I can see where I want to be
But never where I am.

(You come around here running your mouth,
The blood in my veins is flowing down south...
The blood in my brains is flowing down south...)

--Build Target