The streetlights poured shadows onto the pavement,
and the satellites saw it all.
There's so many people, such an absence of life though,
making every contact feel fake and dull.
We're waking up, the whole World is just now becoming conscious
and they have memories trapped in their heads
of calendars and camera lenses they held in their hands,
when they awoke, they were still holding them.
And I'm looking up to the rooftops cause everyone here just stares at the ground,
and concrete never was so interesting before.
But generations change and I've been left uninvolved,
so I guess I'll just try and blend in.
Because if we don't keep things up, we will perish under the stars.
We might use some of our heads, but I doubt we use any of our hearts.
And so we hurt each other.
The room is lighting up with every trace from the fire we made,
and still the glass is empty.
Oh, I couldn't have asked for more than being surrounded by mirrors
cause now not even I'm sure which one is me.
Every impression born just stems from images alone,
so language gets more and more outdated.
Which is so fortunate cause every syllable I swallow
feels like a breath deliberately wasted.
I did, we held so much admiration for
the ones who distanced themselves the most.
And I cannot wait for space to start to stretch out.
After everything's over, our bodies might have dissolved.
But still, just try and stay calm, cause they were never us at all.