| Don't leave me in this room | |
| The walls are closing in | |
| This is the space | |
| I used to say | |
| The line is drawn for you each day | |
| But every day you show | |
| With sound of caving walls | |
| Some day this song will have no pulse | |
| And I'll cave alone | |
| But there we are | |
| Waiting for your answer | |
| Your arms speeded elation | |
| Beating out your salvation | |
| But when the tape stopped you were gone | |
| A half measure from home home, home | |
| This week | |
| I recreate | |
| Edit you back into | |
| The blare that could define you | |
| Coveted by few who knew | |
| The phone rings without pause | |
| This grief wills everyone | |
| All I have is our shitty song | |
| How could it ever be enough? | |
| Here we are in our final accord | |
| A mortician and his tools | |
| Sonically bury you | |
| You could have chose another chord to resolve on on, on |
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