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Those plastic versions of ourselves
the ghost note manifestations
The apparitions in the mirror, they can sense it all
the blackened gravity
of wanting eyes, just behind
it dialates the time
but, where's it gone?
where've I gone?
Fixed on the motion of dying stars
that give way in a silent reveal, a flash of light
to defy the solitude in a roar for all time.
every sound is so dangerous amongst the silence within
but the sounds we don't hear must haunt us
the blinding heat we don't feel must shake our nerves
the sound we don't hear must haunt us
In silence, defiance
it dialates the time
so bright and blinding
so bright
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2. |
Turnstile Intervention
04:24
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