Turn up the street
Empty homes in blank country
Lost sentences
To raise the dead, then back to rest
And I'm waiting for the pages turn
Stolen away between the words
And I suppose the roads we chose
Will break apart when we make it home
Overgrown quietly
And every step you take as every mistake
Will lead you here, they lead you here
Delancey street trembles beneath
Every step you take, every step you take
