"I hope to Christ it's the soundstage,"
Clara spat through her teeth
With no idea how right she was
Or the meaning underneath
These simple words

And thus the fire's burning
Iron doors are blowing—
Open wide for a final silent scream

The Innocents of Paris was interrupted at the time
But it was still released in 1929
And it's a crude but apt analogy
And though change may bring agony
Sound and image always would align

Maybe it was just a funny accent
Maybe it was just a stupid—
Voic-ing all the reasons it should stay the same
But they never had a choice

Maybe it was due to their abilities
Or lack thereof
Their begging—
Pleas-ing to the eye, but not the ear
Cries rise and fall from the smallest voice

And thus the fire's burning
Iron doors are blowing—
Open wide for a final silent scream

Hollywood starts turning
Audiences become discerning
Of the person on the screen

Pay lip service to future debts
Set the scene
Silver tongues immortalized on silver screens
Nothing's too precious to stay
Babels must fall everyday

Unraveling the reels of tomorrow
On time that's borrowed
Dismantle ideals of today

Death rattle sounds without notice
A damsel tied to the tracks
A locomotive comes rushing forth
And the listeners turn their backs
Their faces away

And thus the fire's burning
Iron doors are blowing—
Open wide for a final silent scream

Hollywood starts turning
Audiences become discerning
Of the person on the screen

Pay lip service to future debts
Set the scene
Silver tongues immortalized on silver screens
Nothing's too precious to stay
Babels must fall everyday

Eagle or Icarus took flight from the gate
Built in defiance of god
With language confounded
The eagle was grounded
And the tower was found to be flawed
And I was the first cast out
I vacantly bowed out
I die before my time
Before the stars could realign

Follow my lead
Fall into me
Fall into decay
Fall into me