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