This constant stimulation - an attempt to keep the bad thoughts out - it all amounts to white noise. Stray cats enter the abandoned house.
(Chorus) I hate the future, with its glowing screens. I lie in bed, grinding down on my teeth. The city beneath my eyelids never sleeps. The calm of the deep, forever out of reach,
This winter froze me down to my bones. I was staring into a blackhole. Alone in my headphones, not here to think but feel. Each day rebirth, swallowed by the same decline.
(Chorus)
This glacier has reached its end moraine and someday this will wash away. We can regain this gift of sight and transform the hate to brand new light, an exploding star to melt this ice. There could be love, there could be life.
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