the information is laughing at us
the ticker tape feeds the night
looking for a lost transmission
a heaven that we left behind
when the information comes
we'll know what we're made from
highrise eyes see through you
the ghost of an automaton
the witching hour is summoning up
armies where they don't belong
when the information comes
we'll know what we're made from
highrise eyes see through you
she's the sister of avarice
the wife of a poisonous tide
she's the eye of a battle of storms
that sees where the atoms collide
when the information comes
we'll know what we're made from
highrise eyes see through you