With the synth and sound we might just believe that we could do nall the things in our minds with exacto knives and bings that will make you nwrite all the sounds, all men traded into worlds where we due to nlove, and defined all the leaves that we can speak aboutnWell, you know it ain't right that the cinder blocks are taking up our nview for a while with the simple mathematics of ournlives and design. There's a head that pointed five degrees to the nright; do you know there will only be so many of our kind?nnGive us some of the ghost notesnGive us some of the chosen, oh!nGive us some of the closing slotsnGive us some of the falsest hopennWe are lies and go right down through the suction on the great neye and we climb; do you know the knee scrapes represent that we nthought of design? It comes in and rolls you out with thoughts of the nworld not in line; do you think that they're imaginary nhearts? It was right to return to pieces of the circlenwhere we declined. I know military moments will believe nus; it's a sound, and a tick-tock to the world that tells you nhow you arrive; do you think that we are momentary?nnGive us some of the ghost notesnGive us some of the chosen, oh!nGive us some of the closing slotsnGive us some of the falsest hopennThis is where the like, the like rude choir comes in, alright? it goes like this, it's like:nn'Cause we wanna love, wanna sift through the creation time by nnight with your thoughts; you know, I am just a literary foxnwith a song. They come in like shells and sink right through the nworld and the rhyme. You know pieces of the poetry go nout for the cause; does it feel like somethings missing? Time to nconcede for a while because all that's right is always; that's what's nwrong! In your mind are the churches right beneath the stairs of your nhouse and the time, it's the tick-tock going out and weary...