still frame, a face put to a nameni'll be on the back of your mindntrack taste, this day's been such a wastenlike boxing with our hands in a bindnnstood me up on friday nightnand you had the nerve to ask me what wasn't rightnand why i always talk with my hands at nightnto keep you from the back of my mindnncheck mate, a move you made to mensleeping in the closet like ghostsnback door, the way we were beforenthe gravity was killing us bothnnseventeen dirty magazinesntwo cameras and a pair of your favorite jeansnand i'm asking if you would care to dinenand keep me on the back of your mindn(chorus repeats)nnwould it be alright this timeni'll sleep until the moment you may decidenand i'm just an atom without a blind to keep you on the back of my mindnn