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
Bed of Nails
If You Didn't Want To Know
Saturday Night, Sunday Morning
Search Party
Get Down
The Pros Of Being A Con Artist
Glaciers
How High The Moon
Progress
The Formula
Keep It Simple
Saturday Night Sunday Morning
It's Gonna Rain
Airtight
Windows Facing Walls
Windows Facing Walls
Oh, The Devastation