Century On Fire

[Verse 1]
Great-granddad wrote in cursive
By kerosene and quiet nights
Walked two miles for a paycheck
Knew every face on his street by sight
News came slow in folded paper
Wars were rumors
Not a feed
Love was letters
Stained and crumpled
Took three weeks to say "I need"
[Chorus]
Now the whole world's in my pocket
And I still feel alone most days
Got a thousand little windows
Still can't find a single face
We traded time for tiny screens
We traded skin for shining glass
We're the century on fire
Burning bright
Burning fast
[Verse 2]
She grew up counting harvests
Knew the seasons by the dirt
Sunday best and one good picture
Saved for weddings
Saved for hurt
We grow fruit in metal towers
Chase degrees and chase the train
Talk to strangers in the comment lines
Forget the neighbor knows our name
[Chorus]
Now the whole world's in my pocket
And I still feel alone most days
Got a thousand little windows
Still can't find a single face
We traded time for tiny screens
We traded skin for shining glass
We're the century on fire
Burning bright
Burning fast
[Bridge]
Were they better
Were we wiser
Or just different kinds of scared
They had shadows
We have sirens
Saying "hurry" everywhere (hey!)
If they could see us now
Would they laugh or would they cry
We built towers out of data
Still can't learn how to say goodbye
[Chorus]
Yeah the whole world's in my pocket
And I still feel alone most days
Got a thousand little windows
Still can't find a single face
We traded time for tiny screens
We traded skin for shining glass
We're the century on fire
Burning bright
Burning fast (so fast)
Burning bright
Burning fast

rock, Gritty indie-punk band feel, male vocals. Dry, upfront vocal riding over overdriven guitars and a springy bassline; tight, punchy drums push a brisk tempo. Verses stay lean and talky, choruses burst into shouted gang vocals and octave guitars. Brief middle-eight drops to half-time with roomy snare, then slams back into a final, anthemic hook., indie rock, punk, world