We use our minds to draw a line across the floor and trust ourselves to see a wall. I won't come in, I won't, I said I wouldn't. I love your room - the light, the things you like. When it's time we'll sit above the street and know the lights turned off for us. I know your mind turns out the light and brings it back.
Track Name: Sore Subject
Death to a lack of thought, no audience for a tired reference. Your edge has been dull for eternity, stabbing at a sore subject. Death to a lack of thought, no more sick celebration. Don't you know what it means to be stabbing at a sore subject?