They led us on
They said it would be yours
Tear down the borders, stop patrolling the shores, let us in
We wrote a winter song
Come on, come on, come on, come on
Don't shelve the opera, you've been working This long on it
Twelve years on the Eastside, and still so house proud

All the neighborhood angels are humming the psalms to themselves again
Oh, they seem to think that when you show up you'd look good in somebody's arms

Oh, you should have been a clerk
You should have stayed a stranger
You should have just done the work
But it's too late now, school's out

Wildcats -- you were supposed to go wild
Butchers -- you shouldn't be obsessed with a child
Now Diorama Pete thinks he just sunk the fleet
Much like him, you know I live to be cornered. So come on

Hey Easterner, open your mouth
Don't speak in tones
I know there's beauty in the bones of the dam that burst
I know you look good in the shadow of the Diamond Monger's thirst, but get out
To the left there is an ocean
There is a mountain on the right
Now will you walk away or take the blame for the unfortunately named children of This day
Children of This Night