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Isn't this what you wanted/ to fill up the void/ melodies slaved over/ so easily destroyed/ overshadowed by chaos/ incomprehensible noise/ sprawled out on our backs/ waiting to die/ with our eyes widened/ fixed on the sky/ the buzzards have come/ to feast on our pride/ there will be nothing left but the bones they've picked dry/ and when we cross back over back to where we began/ our slates won't wipe clean like the purest of lambs/ we've become empty bookcases/ shadows of ourselves/ all that remains is the dust on the shelves/ how can we live with the guilt/ seeing these bridges we've built now burn/ now burn...

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