We raise and raze our city like the strangest house of cards, a ghost-breath mist of snow;
A ghost-breath mist of snow where no snow falls,
For we are atlantis, and the town of prester john.
Three weeks apart from never, we dance and do not fall.
We are shangri-la.
History has dreamed of us. history has dreamed of this.
Those who know the way, many times return.
History has dreamed of us,
Building up our city just to watch it burn.
We are shangri-la.
Burn it down
We carry goddess-dust upon our skin,
Wherever we go, rising with bright feathers
In the desert.
Blessed by the wind,
We dance, we thrive, we shimmer in the never-was.
We are shangri-la.
Burn it down.
Relieving saddened sleep and fitful visions, we return.
We raise our city high, we watch our city burn.
We raise our city high to watch it burn.
Burn it down.
We are the mirage for those who dare to come and see.
The burning in our blood will set us free.
We are free.
We are shangri-la.
Burn it down
We are shangri-la.
Let it go