In the shadows of the night come the friends of fantasy
Dancing forward toward the dawn, wrapped in coats of vanity
In the closets, in the home hang the toasts of days gone by
Breaking every haunted scheme, confusing thoughts with fantasy
This is the modern world
This is the modern world
This is the modern world
In the back rooms, where they wait, keeping time so patiently
Playing cards and casting lots sit the last of
In their confusion to deceive, they miss the point so handily
Filling every secret need, they succeed perfectly
This is the modern world
This is the modern world
This is the modern world