I write these numbers down
From the code left on a string
Ones, zeros, ones, and threes
That could never be code for anything

I never claimed to be binarily sound
But I could never claim a thing
Wisdom is dead, it's a thing of the past
That dies with every silver strand

We tell ourselves we're not to blame
I believe it all the same
But my fingers, they just keep pointing
Out all the flaws in this machine
It's me

I write myself out
I write myself out
I write myself out
So you'll know

We have no control
Before it ends, we'll never know
I wear these strikes on my arms
They weigh down my sleeves
Oh, I'll wear them until they break or die
Oh, I'll wear them until they break or die

We tell ourselves we're not to blame
I believe it all the same
But my fingers, they just keep pointing
Out all the flaws in this machine
It's me

I write myself out
I write myself out
I write myself out
So you'll know
Oh, so you'll know
Oh, so you'll know

I apologize with bread and wine
On Sunday morning in the summertime
But I just drop by to leave my money
Because my intentions were wrong once again

I apologize with bread and wine
On Sunday morning in the summertime
But I just drop by to leave my money
Because my intentions were wrong once again