Down falls our heads and hands,
Through alternate realities,
While pretending to be okay,
Everything just begins to fall apart here.

Same breathing tone,
Same foreground noise,
Same backyard burial,
Same hounded home.

Kitchen sink washes away my discolored eyes,
The doubt that I'd left inside of them,
Grind them up into paint,
To smear over the walls of my bedroom.

Same breathing tone,
Same foreground noise,
Same backyard burial,
Same hounded home.