Lyrics
Storm surge from disaster, mouths move but never speak
The story goes eyes wide focused all just a next one
Once I did test your tendons full grown with roots down
? peel away fingers reaching for?
We were running towards a catastrophe, which itself was a kind of furnace in
whose heat identities and fates would buckle into new shapes
At the base of the balloon was a basket in which there was a boy,
and by the basket, clinging to a rope, was a man in need of help