there s nothing now that isn t known nothing in the end that can t be shown it all comes back to this and the feeling doesn t stay it doesn t matter if it s fast or slow it all comes back to this always takes me back always pulles me under in a heart attack there s nothing now that s still the same the neon and the pinprick in the vein moving through your blood and you can tell it leaves a trace and always when you wipe away the stain it all comes back to this always fills the cracks always pulls me under in a heart attack there s nothing now that isn t known nothing in the end that can t be shown it all comes back to this and everything begins in white but it doesn t matter if it s fast or slow it all comes back to this always ends in black always pulls me under in a heart attack
['brooklyn indie']