The death. Remember that?
If you learn anything from this:
Death is the end of consciousness.
We hold our breath for what?
For our lives?
If you know anything:
life is a mockery of what we hoped to be.

Youre still not saying anything.
Were still not saying anything.

I'll try not to waste your time,
but time's another way to make me fall in line.

High time to set this straight.
Come on, you distantly distracted baby.
Come on; don't let it be the same.
You knew that this would happen, and you're not saying anything

It's been a rough year; forgetting everything we said,
Hundreds of promises that were only half kept.
Out-stretched, we found what we could never leave.
Out of the stale, white noise:
the answer to the crux.

I'll turn the other way, a degree of some success
Of being far away when I feel your breath tonight.