The morning fog descends upon
the late night's cheapest thrills
The most committed socialites see the sunrise in the hills
Mistakes are slowly realized, memories distilled
And the static starts to fade
From the laughter of a maniac, to a songbird's melody
From the howling of the sirens, to the swaying of the trees
It fuses all together to find that perfect frequency
And then forever ricochets
Into a sound that no one made

I look up to see you slowing down while signaling a right
The older man behind us now, is flashing you his brights
We both seem so distracted by this growing appetite
To punish and persuade
The silent conversation gets directed toward the view
The cursive in the branches describes the avenue
The words like, "I am sorry"
and "I'm still in love with you"
Become a debt that won't get paid
Just another sound that no one made

How you're moving down the window to the city's radiation
The connected dream's still dancing through the sky
I just need someone who will listen
to this strange and dark existence
Or the consolation of knowing that you'll try
As we pull off of the freeway, a hospital appears
I see a man up in the window, on the back end of his years
And I imagine him there, dying with that ringin' in the ears
That we all end up with someday
There's a code within the symptom, a morbid sort of sign
The ominous reminder of the body's slow decline
As constant as a heartbeat, but stronger over time
While the rest of us decays
Listening to a sound that no one made