Burial Society

I close my eyes a better man

Or imagine that I can imagine such a thing

And it goes on and on and on and on like that

Project myself into the air, and float in a weightless night

It’s better than sitting heavy backed

And sending waves of anxious hate into the street

Trying to shut down the stop lights

It isn't real, but it feels real

It isn't real, but it feels real

As I crane my neck to an emptiness

(Better than knowing nothing at all)

I feel in my chest (I know I know myself)

Cut my wrists, slit my throat, take this body and string it up

Cause I’ll never know

“I’m weak again, stay inside, hate everything.”

Well hey, that’s our lot. And I’m already inside out

Cut my wrists, slit my throat, take this body and string it up

And I’ll never know what you said

Because I’ll be fucking dead by then