It's the same old song broadcasted on the radio, saying I'm not worth your time

I'm losing you in the transmission..

I sewed it up, stitched all these dead end streets into the sewn up seams of my heartstrings

In time, the seasons will seal these shards into the slits that denote your wrists

When people die they take a piece of us with them

When people die they take a piece of us with them

The skyline unfolds into explanation that sometimes words give up and silently walk off the edge of the page
and here the cry opens up, reveals the word inside.

Death up there shines more brightly than lives down here