something was wrong with the sound   believe us, we've tried to break everything down   to the simplest state of alaska to date   so our bodies are born from this sound   now we reap what it is we have found.   something's grand in this place   between us, we equal an inhuman race   where the people parade on top of the graves   as a point that they make to tempt fate.   in alaska, we have found our skate.   on the first day, i locked myself inside my throat   and on the second, so lonely, i smashed the window   into a glorious world that i now call my home   all the fun that i've had since i came to the south.      rust and cyanide      somewhere out in this land   ? carries the weight of a stand ?   where the purpose in our fares of truth or dare   i can stally and skin the plan   how valiant, how alaskan.   somehow haven't been lost   we made our way through   yeah, we made it across   and in the frozen glow of our auras   we know that there will be no holocaust   in alaska, there's no holocaust      at this latitude, have seen abandoned man's kind   at this longitude, no one regrets what they'd find   in the beautiful wasteland that steals from its crime   is a freedom of a feeling that's left undefined      rust and cyanide         oh, the sound of alaska.