Sometimes we fight without a cause
A recourse for inverted flaws
Some things we say without a choice
A discourse on retrograde noise

Some lies we have to rehearse
A pleasure to please and to serve
Some fears we face on our own
A product of retrograde home

We’re falling in retrograde motion
We’re stalling in upward propulsion
We’re shooting, we’re shooting our horses
We’re faking, we’re faking remorses

Someday we’ll abandon our fame
Left to the heirs of the trade
And when we lose our devotion
We’ll wallow in retrograde fortune

We're falling in retrograde motion...