Wait, don't follow to the end
A million miles an hour won't catch you my friend
You're by the book with your hands at 10 and two
With ribbons so into your wrists it's fake until it's true
When friends become strangers and strange is routine
Sing it out but you're tied to the machine
Love has moved out and fear has moved in, with rage
I could make it better or I could make it worse
There are many kinds of silence
All which you have rehearsed