To boldly clap in a room full of nothing you never know, it could be one of those poignant evenings. Museum`s locked and it`s long since past closing, you cannot know, you cannot not know what you`re knowing what can you do, they`re all gone and we`ll go too.
The curtain climbs over me every morning. I don`t know why I`m so immunized against reforming. To coldly slap at a face full of nothing, you never know it could`ve been one of those looks of long. What can you do, they`re all gone And we`ll go too.
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