to boldly clap in a room full of nothing you never know, it could be one of those poignant evenings museum's locked and it's long since past closing, you cannot know, you cannot not know, what you're knowing
what can you do they're all gone and we'll go too
the curtain climbs over me every morning I don't know why I'm so immunized against reforming to coldly slap at a face full of nothing, you never know it could've been one of those looks of longing