I feel this heat rise inside of me.
And I'm not sure how much I can take.
Before my seams split entirely, before the vessels in me break.
When I explode please make an outline where my feet once stood strong.
And spread my ashes in this plastic ashtray where my kind belongs.
This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
How High The Moon
This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Get Down
Search Party
Saturday Night, Sunday Morning
If You Didn't Want To Know
Bed of Nails
Glaciers
How High The Moon
The Pros Of Being A Con Artist
The Formula
Progress
Saturday Night Sunday Morning
Airtight
Keep It Simple
Oh, The Devastation
Bed Of Nails
It's Gonna Rain
Windows Facing Walls