a band called burning airlines

they pointed us toward falling stars,
and told us that's how we're supposed to steer;
they locked us in our rooms with police at our doors
and told us THERE'S NOTHING TO FEAR.

but now my child is dying,
and faith has never seemed so impure;
they told me to stop searching,
but i swear to god, THERE IS A CURE.

all the martyrs i once idolized
turned to sinners as soon as i looked away;
this aviary's nice, but the wires are still there;
the police grin and tell me THEY'RE HERE TO STAY.