Out on the wall sounds of banging is constant coming from your head 
And desperate the calls came and ringing from those wanna wring your neck 
Wring your neck 

Open your mouth sounds of breathing found it spilling from your face 
Best to be dim to the humble of traffic stepping on your name 

Count on us all follow our own swords tonight 

And chilling walk home down the portions roads there leading straight to your place 
And look like the tin can with swallows the kitchen plugging up your space 

Count on us all stepping on our own toes tonight 
Count on us all stepping on our own toes 
Count on us all follow our own swords tonight