Echoes of future knock on your door
Echoes of past you don't dare explore
Pictures of Annie and memories of weed
Sick weirdos running on fumes of dead speed
When you're tired of London and sick of Berlin
Man, you must have seen
The ghosts of Brooklyn
Coincidence crawls so you better beware
The last silver coin is no reason to care
The wasteland is barren and so are your bones
The dealer is calling don't pick up the phone
When you're tired of London and sick of Berlin
Man, you must have seen
The ghosts of Brooklyn
The air is so heavy it's murder to soul
You care less for fortune and masks to explore
You care more for the living but you cherish the dead
If only their spirits could fly from your head
When you're tired of London and sick of Berlin
Man, you must have seen
The ghosts of Brooklyn
