So stand right up, then stand so still. Your words taste like unswalloed pills. More useless d** to put faith in that make your speech sound ghostwritten. The radio keeps breaking up, and I'm sure these songs weren't meant for us. Of all the ways that I thought we'd run, so sick, complacent wsn't one. We'll depreciate and cease with no dance to shed this disease. It will swallow us, moving like somebody's slashing our bloodlines to taste for wine. So stand right up, but dont dare move so much as pose, so much to prove. You had a voice, but spat it out, remained in line as a devout. Of all the ways we come undone, so sick that silence was the one. No one is expected to know how to make this more than a show. Of everything you had to give uo while trying to let it all go. Until the end of this life I wont step up to let you down, because at the end of all this noise, there's never silence like you wanted.