Pull the ropes up tight and we'll swing above this place Get high for a while and watch the moon melt From this roof-top seat we can dance above the town On the soles of our feet and curse the ground We'll pretend to be hung upon apostrophes that pluralize the empty eyes And judge a man by his degree But it's so nice up here and the air feels good to breathe My vision's clear, but it gets harder to see Harder to see...