to boldly clap in a room full of nothing
you never know, it could be one of those
poignant evenings
museum's locked and it's long since past closing,
you cannot know, you cannot not know,
what you're knowing
what can you do
they're all gone and
we'll go too
the curtain climbs
over me every morning
I don't know why I'm so immunized against reforming
to coldly slap at a face full of nothing,
you never know it could've been one of those looks of longing
what can you do
they're all gone and we'll go too
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