Из альбома: The Narrow Scope of Things
let the hands fall to the floor
allow these pupils to see organs
a telescopic view is almost arousing
no more holiness in denial
the trojan army is just a farce
reality is two weeks in the waiting
i'm not sure we're on the same page
habitual weakness stains the past
desire rolls over and waits for spring
i'm not sure we're on the same page
your eyes are lusting, my hands are tied
your mind conditioned, my heart has changed
i'm not sure we're on the same page