The sun drops low.
Stains the sky a bloody red.
The wind begins to blow,
And the day is dead.
Your facade is shed.
Your armors on the ground.
You become the real you for once,
And you long to hear the sound.
Found your escape.
Feel the ground shake.
Shed the day time.
Feel your pulse climb.
Found your escape.
Feel the ground shake.
Shed the day time.
Feel your pulse climb.
This is you of after hours.
Fish nets torn, eye liner smudged.
Smell of sweat and bottled flowers.
You're now immune to being judged.
So you tromp down cobbled streets.
Hear a pulsing muffled sound.
And you burst through crowded entry way.
Your escape has now been found.
Found your escape.
Feel the ground shake.
Shed the day time.
Feel your pulse climb.
Found your escape.
Feel the ground shake.
Shed the day time.
Feel your pulse climb.
Paint peeling on black painted walls,
As you tread through liquor spilled.
It's your darkened sanctuary,
And the air is filled.
Strobes show snap shots of your friends,
Bare shoulders, naked smiles.
Jumping, spinning writhing pulls
You out of your days trials.
Found your escape.
Feel the ground shake.
Shed the day time.
Feel your pulse climb.
Found your escape.
Feel the ground shake.
Shed the day time.
Feel your pulse climb.