Shovel in the snow, don’t you uncover that road,

In this simple light, toothy smile of stalactites

I can trace these shortcuts everywhere, worlds prepared, used to the usual fare

See the smoke come spilling out of you, feels like flu, feels like losing a few

Looking westward I can see the trees start to shake their leaves, tassels shake in the breeze for you and me

Tin can telephone, I’ve been staring at too long

Mirror’s tired of reflecting light, someone always wants a reply

I can trace these shortcuts from the start, worlds apart, used to catch me off guard

This tendence to dehumanise, where’d it rise, used to averting my eyes

And the best part, I had such a sense of my own fears then, now I hardly have the time, digging blind

Time digging blind

All the time digging blind

All the time digging blind