Burial Society

I close my eyes a better man
Or imagine that I can imagine such a thing
And it goes on and on and on and on like that
Project myself into the air, and float in a weightless night
It’s better than sitting heavy backed
And sending waves of anxious hate into the street
Trying to shut down the stop lights

It isn't real, but it feels real
It isn't real, but it feels real

As I crane my neck to an emptiness
(Better than knowing nothing at all)
I feel in my chest (I know I know myself)
Cut my wrists, slit my throat, take this body and string it up
Cause I’ll never know

“I’m weak again, stay inside, hate everything.”
Well hey, that’s our lot. And I’m already inside out
Cut my wrists, slit my throat, take this body and string it up
And I’ll never know what you said
Because I’ll be fucking dead by then