Over-Analytic کے بول

it's hard to burn the eyes when you walk with your back to the sun. in your head, so systematic there's a hook for everyone. so we've pranced around the room shouted and stirred the dead. and we go our separate ways, to leave the ghosts wandering in our heads. you're so good at break break breaking down boundaries. stumbling, through the eaves 3 in a half flights just isn't enough but you're so good at walking backwards, to the tempo of torn and tattered. it's the eyes of the bystanders that gaze into you. we're avoiding all the eminent collisions so we can leave the deceased to feed on our flustered repetitions. we're always avoiding what everybody else needs. i wish you'd learn "dance like there's nobody watching" "dance like there's nobody watching" "dance like there's nobody watching"