It's by design: the constructs stand, the heads will ring, lost from all
the simple things.
A moment caught, a moment spent, for popsters all the losers then can't
figure out something is wrong

The secret's out, the mystery's gone

I'm waiting for the one to call me on what I owe her, take me straight
on her shoulders, lift me up show me how
One hand raised, a straight arm; goose step, click

Still, something's dying
The constructs stand, the heads will ring, lost from all the simple things.
The noise it takes to really strip a motion siezed, a feeling gripped
With time long wasted, breath long baited, there's nothing new to show;
the song drones