so strange i remember you in protest of a prayer, and falling back from seas we fear to sail. i swear i saw the shooter gold, and a double dare. postmodern warnings seem inclined to fail. feigning an apology, those words they never left your lips. those five years in bermuda slide by like lights of passing ships. so starnge that i remember you knee-deep in nietzche's lies. my throat was an open grave, i drank your stained glass eyes. and they taste like dead cathedrals that are crumbling beneath a weight, ten thousand jaded tourists who've traded in there hearts and hands for disposable cameras, set to document decay. set to capture just enough of life to cataloge the things we throw away. breathing the fumes of our machines, we've lost our way. breathing through television dreams. if we could only see us now. the words of the dead ring in our ears, but it's only a lie. the voice in your head brings you to tears, but you don't know why. but it's only a lie, yes it's only a lie... isn't it?