Ampere

blood is filling our lungs & the room wont stop spinning. its only now that we notice the ghosts in the mirror are us. we built these walls. somewhere, choking on words, in some far-off room, away from the fallout, well never make it out. and should this room become a morgue, our bed a coffin, our secrets will die with us. so still, so sterile. there are ghosts there, behind the headboard, under sheets. they keep us from sleep. footprints on carpet, and stark white walls keep secrets hid in plain view. and when our buildings topple, we will meet in the wreckage. among ashen remains, well be burning ember and well not leave any tracks. by sunrise, the wind will displace us. itll be as if we were never there. and you said that theres not a word to believe in either of our whispured assurances, but we find solace... and we wont forget the sound of ruined gray cities, of shadows, and the silence...
[ At Its Heart & At Its Head Lyrics ]