Throwell to the stars

A demeanor decline
For a data-based design
Stick your finger through space
Pretend you're commonplace
Even though you light up with
Pangs of broken days
"this is silly time," they say
Pouring soda on his grave

Those who feed from the fringe
But feel it's the core
They stroll up and down
Meandering about, about

This is where the walls are not strong
? and decoys save your songs
Your key would shatter the locks of debris

So sing one lower for your dead-pulse lover
Your key would shatter the locks of debris

Shatter, shatter

Those who feed from the fringe
But feel it's the core
They stroll up and down
Meandering about, about
Proud to be youth of a discipline