I've mastered the art of small talk the bond of wet paper
and a friendly gesture giving way to a colder stance a
black lung full of feeling remember this he says the
machine gives no response I choke on the memories the
garbage piles up the machine feeds back he grins lightly
and turns away another tree in the forest dies I sleep well
beneath my apathy
and a friendly gesture giving way to a colder stance a
black lung full of feeling remember this he says the
machine gives no response I choke on the memories the
garbage piles up the machine feeds back he grins lightly
and turns away another tree in the forest dies I sleep well
beneath my apathy