Out on the wall sounds of banging is constant coming from your head

And desperate the calls came and ringing from those wanna wring your neck

Wring your neck



Open your mouth sounds of breathing found it spilling from your face

Best to be dim to the humble of traffic stepping on your name



Count on us all falling our own swords tonight



And chilling walk home down the portions roads there leading straight to your place

And look like the tin can with swallows the kitchen plugging up your space



Count on us all stepping on our own toes tonight

Count on us all stepping on our own toes

Count on us all follow our own swords tonight