Muscles quiver under paper in a fiber grave. Arms, interlocking, press into the day. Balance finds its gravity only through points of three. This is our only saving grace. The weight of paper is piling up. I cannot find another face. Beneath the weight of paper, we will build a home, with walls that hold fast to the sound of words we cannot know. Column A and Column B: never what they claim to be. This is our moment's saving grace. The weight of paper is piling up. I cannot find another face.
Published as lyrics for GODHEADSCOPE’s A City Out Of Sight LP, 2007.