The Age of Rockets

A steady hand at dooms blank stare with voices calling you back to bed. Delancey Street trembles beneath as you rise to meet the day It's a long night wide awake with work in the morning and I'm Saving each word from certain death always look right,

Turn up the street empty homes in blank country lost sentences to raise the dead, then back to rest and I'm waiting for the pages turn stolen away between the words and I suppose the roads we chose will break apart when we make it home overgrown quie

Hotel bathroom spins oh no! as we start to brush the whole mess aside hotel bathroom sings out loud! when we don't know the words. we we're made for broken arms empty hearts and such when there's someone else in the room with you and you can't breath

Around the bed frame hollow cans and rings from coffee cups line the pages on the desk monday spent mourning the sun while taste still lingers from something lost along the way and you're the worst at what you love the best and up till now: an experi