Wrong side of history. you are there.
Left all alone, pressing for air.
Time is the tide we try to hold down.
Head back and sinking.
Clench your fists. let your fingers carve holes in your hands, and invent.
Clench your fists. let your fingers carve holes in your hands.
Trust me, we'll all die alone.
No one will notice or know.
Wrong side of history. we are already there.
We're quietly sinking.
Clench your fists. let your fingers carve holes in your hands, and invent.
Clench your fists. let your fingers carve holes in your hands.
