From the recording Reflux
Why do you talk in your sleep again?
Why do you walk past my house again?
Spring summer fall is a process
Everyone moving's a process that ends
Why are you stretched on my lawn again?
Why are you stuck in my head again?
The cold dead chill of nothing
Sustains itself on nothing with no end
These lights are unnatural, a dot on the timeline
Behind them no eyes & no mind to observe itself
It waits for you, save yourself, bury your intentions
Well it waits for you, save yourself, share your time or swallow it whole
All your secrets, locked in boxes
All your secrets, cut & dried