(cleaning up the mess we left behind
it just spreads around like paint)

everybody wants into the pretty house
built on empty caches and spines

its their duty to run around like wild dogs
as it is mine to turn back into stone

everybody wants into the warehouse floor where the speaker static drowns out everything

footsteps echo in the halls
where the cots are all aligned
and it’s always been the sound they scramble frequency to hide

every drop of blood that pools along the floor
is fed into the fog machine

footsteps echo in the halls
where the bodies are aligned
and their mouths are open screaming in the dead of night

something came in through the walls
(dies irae)
and it bit me on the hand
(dies illa)
and it promised me a better life, a cleaner death
(solvet sæclum)
when it comes back again, when it comes back again
(in favilla)

you were captured in a thirty-five of film
and surrendered into studio control
a map is never still unless it lies
and by design all maps are liars
by its grace you were absolved of all your sin
through some minor edits to the script
spun around until you don’t know where you are
cut apart until you don’t know who you are

(you cannot run from hope cause it will sneak up on you
you cannot run from fear cause it has its teeth in you
you cannot run from hope cause it will sneak up on you
you cannot run from fear cause it has its teeth in you)