These walls begin to speak. Cover them up so they don't spill. Silence the dancers foot steps that we hear. Noises always creeping up and then disappear. Shut them up and nail inconveniences to the the floor. And fade away to see if your voice remains. Its always easier to seem dead in disguise when everyone lies. And you can read in between every line. But don't stay to long because consciousness fades, an everlasting date. Truth becomes lies and everyone has alibis, not to know the difference between black and white. Nails grow longer and faces become faker.