This pavement under me on it has death etched
Lamp posts that illuminate my numbered breaths
They're always visible they don't dissipate
And I don't want to stay in this place
Because I live in a beach side town that never wakes
It's a narcoleptic state, a godless grace
It's the perfect place, built to spill your guts
The song that she moves to is stuck on repeat and
Though you can see bone she cannot stop moving
The floor grinds her down ocean breeze it blows her away
And she can't move fast enough if she could she'd say
That "I'm heading out but not for a long enough time
Fearing most of all the fact that I can't die"
It's not some hippy bullshit it's bonafide
It's not some hippy bullshit it's bonafide