Subtle ways have fallen through.
The skyscrapers have fallen too.
Feel the difference as we witness
how that wicked witch has hindranced me and you.
Call forth the forced sad goodbyes.
Call back your dogs and so will I.
And tightly to the quickness
filling voids of unknown thickness we will bind.
All underneath the labyrinth
of our wicked ways we have this thing that shines.
It's all moldy and forsaken
but it cannot be mistaken just for spite.

Sordid pasts will fall away
with knockin' doors at ends of days.
And probably our hatred'll
get enveloped by the waiting it'll fade.
Meaning this is meaningless.
What the hell is the point of this?
Oh, it's all for the point of prowess,
how they see us. Oh yeah how could we forget?
And these actions overtake us
later on they rightly break us with regret.
We're just wasting our emotions
with these vague and listless motions of our fists.