In the direction of the blood that runs from a fresh cut throat, we run down
From the perspective of a dead man's eyes staring up at dead men walking tall
We face up to look down
We breathe out just to hear something else
There's a connection like a mid-air collision makes a point to kiss each other goodbye
By the looks on your faces, I bet you've never seen blood run this thin and cold
It goes down like ocean water breathed into the lungs, like glass swallowed and spit up