Scrawled into the pavement, again and again
Written on the red stalls in smokey tin
On the smokey tin, it melts again and again
On the booths of the round table again
Drug onto the street and onto the soaking steps, again and again
All this debris sifting through static lungs, lingering
All this debris sifting through static lungs in every pore

Laced with a bitter face
Near the dawning of the high
Laced with a bitter face
Near the dawning of the high
Of the high
And madness of the undertow

We audience who saved our roses
We audience who scoffed at the tears
Ugliness stretching toward the chandelier
Pale with pain, pale with pain again

I imagined the overcome and fell to my knees
Before the endless truth of instability and futility
The endless truth of instability and futility
Now I know...