we will become silhouettes

the postal service (give up 2003)

 

i've got a cupboard with cans of food

filtered water, and pictures of you

and I'm not coming out until this is all over

and I'm looking through the glass

where the light bends at the cracks

and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs

pretending the echoes belong to someone

someone I used to know

we become silhouettes

when our bodies finally go