The Surface

Tired, almost out of ideas

I might be starting to think

This was an accident

Surface tension

How do I fake my death

At the top of the edge

Lies none of the consequence

What an ineffectual way to think

Is it over our heads, looking for

A theory of everything

And I can't help notice

You're always asking, what do I get

No imagination in it

From the top of the chain

To the bottom again

When you thought you were done

You scratch the surface

What'd you think you would gain

If you go it alone

When again and again

You scratch the surface

Endless cycle of generate

But it's all you've been fed, consensual

Acts of vanity

What an intellectual argument

'Cause we haven't been here quite long enough

To have these conversations

And I can't help wondering if

This is the only way there is

To get through to you

And all of this happened so fast

You and I are close but not as far away

Where do we go from here?

The question

It's not the one to answer

Where do we go from here?

The question

It's not the one to answer

Where do we go from here?

The question

It's not the one to answer

Where do we go from here?

The question

It's not the one to answer

And it feels this might be

The actual death

And it feels this might be

The actual death

And it feels this might be

The actual death

And it feels eventual

From the top of the chain

To the bottom again

When you thought you were done

You scratch the surface

What'd you think you would gain

If you go it alone

When again and again

You scratch the surface

From the top of the chain

To the bottom again

When you thought you were done

You scratch the surface

What'd you think you would gain

If you go it alone

When again and again

You scratch the surface