A bloodshed modesty, what a sight the dusk dragged in
I can move like a crosswalk phantom or photographic lens
And let the light pass through

We’re too old to fear the dark, but we’re not too old to lie
When time gets away from me the machine can be my guide
A calculated truth


Voices escaping through the space beneath my door
Ghostwriting ransoms that I’ve heard somewhere before
But was it modern life, was it in my mind?


Disguised as memories, we could redesign our form
Dissolved like a slice of fiction, dimensionless and warm
A cultivated low
It’s all velvet dialect when I play the perfect host
Collect my genetic pension and filter out the stones
In tactical repose


Voices escaping through the space beneath my door
Ghostwriting ransoms that I’ve heard somewhere before
But was it modern life, was it in my mind?


And when I finally breathe in the circumstance,
Unfolding answers along the way
Conscious of all my friends’ pedestrian decay


Voices escaping through the space beneath my door
Ghostwriting ransoms that I’ve heard somewhere before
But was it modern life, was it in my mind?