I can feel it on my tongue

Brick and mortar, thick as scripture

Drawing lines in the sand and laying borders as tall as towersI babble on until my voice is gone

This hill I′ll die on is about 90 meters of bricks

Colored indigo and inscribed with my name, and lined with cedar

But the words fall flat like cymbals crashing

Like molars gnashing

'Cause like constellations a million years away

Every good intention, every good intention

Is interpolation, a line we drew in the array

Looking for the faces

Looking for the shapes in the silence

All that′s left for me to climb

To the heavens is the chasm of the night

And a matter of time, but I hear the rumble

As the tectonic plates start to shake

And I feel my blood pounding like the beat of a drum

'Cause like constellations a million years away

Every good intention, every good intention

Is interpolation, a line we drew in the array

Clinging to the faces

Clinging to the shapes in the silence

Like constellations imploding in the night

Everything is turning, everything is turning

The shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light

And everything you thought you knew

Will fall apart, but you'll be all right