Not-so-fresh feeling.
Between stale air and week old smoke.
call it a rash of the mind, an itch you can't scratch without a nail.
Stretched like crucifix, nailed like Jenna.
Counting the bumps in the ceiling.
Afterglow just aint what it used to be.
Can't find the beat.
Can't find the line.
Can't fight the wall.
Wall cheats.
Wall wins.
Counting the bumps in the ceiling.
Melting into the floor.
Can't find the line.
can't
find
the line.
tastes like blue.
dead in the corner
ink in the vein
can't
find
the line.
Pretty patterns coming down.
Numbers
angles
murmors
lost all meaning.
Can't
find
the line.
Can't taste the metal.
Down.
All the way.
It's warm.
It's quiet.
Can't sleep.
Can't stop the fire.
Everything.
Everywhere.
Can't find the line.
Can't sleep.
Can't find the line.
Can't make the still.
Can't find the line.