Sanoja: Faded Paper Figures. Geneva's Gone.
Geneva's gone, like forgotten songs
in a country sleeping warmly in the night.
We believe Exxon, we play along
the water getting blacker as we fight
Geneva's gone, like a faded song
an extra-legal table-turning dream
where one record speaks and another dies,
writing memos that are never as they seem.
We will hear again in the years ahead
you've no memory of these many crimes
but these microphones tell of missing bones
and cameras captured weapons in your mind
Geneva's gone, like a foreign song
Just how many held you cannot say
And when organs fail, it's a small detail
Your pious eyes are showing no dismay.
We will hear again in the years ahead
you've no memory of these many crimes
but these microphones tell of missing bones
and cameras captured weapons in your mind
in a country sleeping warmly in the night.
We believe Exxon, we play along
the water getting blacker as we fight
Geneva's gone, like a faded song
an extra-legal table-turning dream
where one record speaks and another dies,
writing memos that are never as they seem.
We will hear again in the years ahead
you've no memory of these many crimes
but these microphones tell of missing bones
and cameras captured weapons in your mind
Geneva's gone, like a foreign song
Just how many held you cannot say
And when organs fail, it's a small detail
Your pious eyes are showing no dismay.
We will hear again in the years ahead
you've no memory of these many crimes
but these microphones tell of missing bones
and cameras captured weapons in your mind
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