They say the dead never speak, I do not listen
To the sweet nothings in the crazy world I live in
I'm in a flush gray seattle on monday the sun rays chase the shadows up hills
With a child-like feeling, catch me if you can it's a fight rhetoric
Dancing on command of the night's setting
Fancy what you have, it's the zeitgeist yet again
In hindsight to find my cause of death
I chased my dreams then I lost my breath - get it?

Am I clever with the words?
Does it really matter when you're entering a hearse?
Look, I'm alone in the coma from the methadone
Searching for a saint that was frozen in a bed of snow
And then I'll excavate the set of bones, easy to eat
Easy to go, better late than never though
Here we go again, we can call it my defeat
When my tongue is in my cheek for a solid ninety weeks

Swallow pride and grief, that's all I really had
Just so I can understand that is all I can be
And from a birdseye view, sixteen shots and I'll earn my dues
Sixteen shots and the world I knew a resting plot for the kerbside blues
I see a city trapped in amber full of all the joy and misery that's captured
Bright lights emitting in a pattern by the fireflies like a symphony of lanterns