We just went for a drink, asking questions again, like “what's inscribed in here”, “sublime in here?”. but I'm alive in here. No more – don't want to think of rituals and pain. “The backmasking of violence – am I in this?”, your silent lips sing. Your silent lips sing. Have to work out this kink, talk it over again, like “what we want to do”, and “is it ending soon?” No more – don't want to think of rituals and pain. “The backmasking of violence – am I in this?”, your silent lips sing. Silent lips sing. Your silent lips sing. Tossed the gla** to the floor, no more talking tonight. “What was enacted here?”, “instantiated here?”, “scared or sacred, dear?”