Yawn awake
Familiar surroundings
All hotel rooms are pretty much the same,
Though the room number might change

Catch a glimpse of everything within the lighter's flame
There's always a window and so changes the view
Affording a clue to the answer that's owing
Where we might be and where we might be going

There's no fixed address but the band, white as a suburb,
Catch a reflection it's going knots as we're headed in any direction
So press your head against the window, look outside at emptiness
Tell a joke, or take a piss

Take a picture at every mile
Lock the door and start the engine 'cause it's gonna be a while
Tell a joke, take a piss
Take a picture at every mile

Start the van, close the door, Quince I think it's gonna be a while
The climates flay themselves, undress themselves at the side of the road
Commute at the union between failure and hope
Weave a highway line, stitch a skirt out on the land

Twist and turn, and tell a story like the palm of your hand
Buckle up and wonder, keep watching the skies
Pucker up and flounder in the blink of an eye
The climates flay themselves, undress themselves at the side of the road

Commute at the union between failure and hope
Turn our weakness into
Turn our blindness into
Turn our questions into answers as obvious

Turn our weakness into might
Turn our blindness into sight
Turn our questions into answers just as obvious
As moonlight in the darkest, darkest night
As moonlight in the darkest, darkest night

Written By Arif Mirabdolbaghi, Luke Hoskin, Moe Carlson, Rody Walker, Tim Millar

Lyrics © COINFISH PUBLISHING


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