From Dalight کے بول

I remember this painted in laundry white It's such beautiful coldness that numb feels right Fantastic specimen known to cause those harm Twisted drone ripped from the false ant farm It was all shaved head and climbing trees Bile and shouts of make it stop please Through stained glass you know that I became aware That equanimity's become my cross to bear For too long, our verve's has remained up in the air Collecting all these trinkets reflecting all the glare I don't want to deprive myself of another Only seen the sink and not of your gullet I'm babysitting lines on my pedestal Who makes these tiny things and so I call Country whores with mourning cities on their neck Hit it again and lie through stanza sets Pieces of me fall far from dalight