[Verse: Conor]

Take the hope in which you wish to be basic

Take the truth in which your world still has a basis

Take both and realign them in their placements

Make both so that they lie on a line that isn’t stasis

Incriminated,- to myself by my health

Just words to the self

Steady searching the shelf

Of all the cassette tapes these fuckers deserted

You uttered he blurted, said these shits is worthless

Could see he was nervous, they had a new purpose

My urges, to loop them and turn them to verses,-

We recycle, no need to be frightful

Could see he was spiteful

Said “this work is vital”

He was acting entitled

Origins a recital

Of what the divine set inline past time

Way past prime, or any sense you incline

The shell is where you dwell, that viewpoint isnt mine

Stated its all design, -

Said that its a paradigm

And there in line, is the flaw of another kind

Told me my mindstate was complacent

Which i responded no,-

Its from the ancients

To which he said so

Why don’t you get complicated

I said to grow

That terms your amalgamation

Keep it on the low

But after I was jaded

I know mine is one of those few cases

To this you may ask what is my basis

I can see us go through phases

In which the true self can't pull faces

[Hook: Conor]

In which the true self can't pull faces yo

In which the true self can't pull faces yo

In which the true self

In which the true self

Yo, we break down

Don’t advance it we break down

Take each sound

And rearrange them to astound

We break down

Don’t advance it we break down

Take each sound

And rearrange them to astound