Can’t figure out how we got here
Living on decay
The 7 Words left on paper
Will disconnect the day

And you want a new want
And you want anything that’s clear

And it’s all around us
As ghosted machines
Would the real be just silent
If there’s a hole in the key?

At the bar in the basement
For an hour-glass of tea
Our love is a violent
Constant space in between

And the taste has got a texture
Smoke has not a sound
The fabric that was fixed here
Inherent in the ground

And it’s all around us
As ghosted machines
Would the real be just silent
If there’s a hole in the key?
At the bar in the basement
For an hour-glass of tea
Our love is a violent
Space in between

And as much as I’d like to
Believe there’s a truth
About our illusion, well
I’ve come to conclude:

There’s just nothing beyond it
The mind can perceive
Except for the pictures in
The space in between
The space in between