We are the kids that are making things We are the kids they call us Matchstick Kings Build it up, build it in a hole We are the kids that will never get old. And we start over again, And we start over again. We are the kids that they never shut up We live in a house, but we sleep in a truck Build it up, build it in a hole We are the kids that will never get old And we start over again, And we start over again. And at the end, There’ll be a round of applause, We’ll take a bow, And then we’ll leave for the halls. With you. We are the kids that are making things
We are the kids they call us Matchstick Kings Build it up, build it in a hole We are the kids that will never get old. And we start over again, And we start over and over... Hands move in circles Spinning slowly, scratch the surface It’s all because, it’s all because. Mouths making echoes You can hear words, but they’re empty When you’re selling things, you make them numbers Eyes greet the patrons Empty gla**es, fill up slowly As they watch it rise, one thousand times. All that consumes us is the rhythm of the movements Then we bow our heads, We bow our heads.