I've got a cupboard with cans of food, filtered water
And pictures of you and I'm not coming out
Until this is all over
And I'm looking through the glass
Where the light bends at the cracks
And I'm screaming at the top of my lungs pretending
The echoes belong to someone, someone I used to know
And we become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
Ba ba ba
I wanted to walk through the empty streets
And feel something constant under my feet
But all the news reports recommended that
I stay indoors
Because the air outside will make our cells
Divide at an alarming rate until our shells
Simply cannot hold all our insides in
And that's when we'll explode
(And it won't be a pretty sight)
And we'll become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
Ba ba ba
And we'll become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
Ba ba ba
And we'll become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
Ba ba ba
And we'll become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
Ba ba ba
And we'll become
And we'll become
© DYING SONGS; WHERE I'M CALLING FROM MUSIC;
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