Note the way looker before you leave one last time,
Is the fan spinning,
Or is the ground collapsing under your feet?
What happened to our paradise?
What happened to this place we called home?
Are we empty bottles,
Crushed under the pressure of barreling circles?
In this stampede, the circus tent ruffles for the jubilation of the crowd as they see me running away
So leave me with rope and I can tie you a sinister knot, so bound by words your feet leave the surface but your heart just stays,
Where were we going when the sun rose last night?
How did the moon stop shining when the stars were still looking for place?
But it's the circus life the hopeless say they aspire for
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