Can’t figure out how we got here
Living on decay
The 7 Words left on paper
Will disconnect the day
And you want a new want
And you want anything that’s clear
And it’s all around us
As ghosted machines
Would the real be just silent
If there’s a hole in the key?
At the bar in the basement
For an hour-glass of tea
Our love is a violent
Constant space in between
And the taste has got a texture
Smoke has not a sound
The fabric that was fixed here
Inherent in the ground
And it’s all around us
As ghosted machines
Would the real be just silent
If there’s a hole in the key?
At the bar in the basement
For an hour-glass of tea
Our love is a violent
Space in between
And as much as I’d like to
Believe there’s a truth
About our illusion, well
I’ve come to conclude
There’s just nothing beyond it
The mind can perceive
Except for the pictures in
The space in between
The space in between
