This scene seems like a thousand bad dreams
Your lungs are full of air but you still can’t scream.
Where? Why? How did I get on this train?
It won’t stop rolling and we’re going insane.

Muddy ice cubes mix a shitty drink.
You’re been reading books but you still can’t think.
I wrote a song for all the things I want to say
I try to hit the keys but they still won’t play.

Here comes the man:

There’s no heroes on the radio.
There’s no heroes on my stereo.
There’s no heroes in the books I’m reading.
There’s no heroes in the films I’m seeing.
There’s no heroes in the songs we’re singing
There’s no heroes in the message we’re bringing
There’s no heroes in the things I’m praying
There’s no heroes in the music I’m playing.

This dream seems like I’m shoveling steam.
This dream seems like I’m swimming upstream.
I think I had admission but then I lost that card.
Can I get to heaven if I knock really hard?

This dream seems like I’m shoveling steam.
This dream seems like I’m swimming upstream.
I used to have a boat but they shot it full of holes.
Can I get to heaven if I really really row?

This thing stings like a broken wing.
Your mouth is open wide but you still can’t sing.
Talk. Talk. Nothing but talk.
Your legs work fine but you can’t walk.