Lyrics
Black ties and petty lies sit on padded leather.
A pounding loop is playing and the delicate glasses shiver with every passing repetition.
Mystery Longitudes show their reflection in the veins of a man who dropped a white olive in his martini just minutes ago.
He takes two shots and falls down.
The picture fades into static,
an overstimulation of the senses,
building decibels, the northern lights,
translucent air over a football stadium,
the Gulf of Mexico, the Red Sea,
broken chains, spoken words,
shifts in blame, slaughtered herds,
a boy watches snow through a window,
a teacher sips on a flask, disgusted with school violence,
there is no exit, there is no time, until there is silence.
Veins are filters. Now there's a wheel driving, spinning, looping, repeating.
A September Oak spreads its reflection in the window.
There's two shots; he falls down.
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