The tower clock is tickin' a relentless tone,
And there's still something missing from my memories tome.
A reluctant adventure to the porcelain throne,
Throwin' up on the lawn and stumbling through the town.

Well you made me think that I could be right ,
And I came to see what we could make of the night.
Now you've flushed me out of your system just fine,
But I can't do the same 'cause your name is my wine.

If I could tap into your train of thought,
I'd tie these frayed ends in a knot.
I'd wrap the doubt around a chord,
And accept what I cannot control.

The neutral between biased tides was seasoned to resolve divides.
Ideally where we'll stand our ground,
Progression takes the form of sound.