Texty: Dead Letter Office. Follow Me Down.

Keep your ear to the ground.
And wait with an open hard for that secret sound.
In a deep, artificial sleep.
They paint your eyes white and soak your feet.
Tired, you hang your head.
And with wet grass and foreign flowers they make your bed.
Beneath a beautiful dead tree,
where the sun meets the earth and the sky can breath.
Wait here on your own.
They broke your body now they want your soul.
So push the beds together.
Connect with each other.
After all you're only human