Oh, the empires calling,nTrying to hear his voice,nWhile he’s preaching to the choir,nAnd that choir is death and noise.nnAnd he closes up his fist, and he sees if they exist.nnAngels with broken wings,nMelodic harmonies she sings.nShe brings you white daffodils,nYou place them on your windowsill.nnThen you open up your fist, and you see if they exist.nnWell you sit in dark forests,nYou’ve been there for quite a while.nAnd when they come to take you,nYou just sit and smile.nnYou say, “Hey, you take this. I’m gonna see if you exist.”nnOh it’s time to leave here,nAnd I still have my knife,nAnd it’s pressed up against my body,nTonights gonna be the night.nnAnd I cut my own wrist, just to see if I exist.n