Texty: Broken Social Scene. Churches Under the Stairs.

With the synth and sound we might just believe that we could do
all the things in our minds with exacto knives and bings that will make you
write all the sounds, all men traded into worlds where we do love,
and defined all the leaves that we can speak about
Well, you know where you like that the cinder blocks are taking up our
view, for a while, with the simple mathematics of our
lives and design.
There's a head that pointed five degrees to the right;
Do you know there will only be so many of our kind?

Oooh
Oooh
Give us some of the ghost notes, oh!
Give us some of the chosen, oh!
Give us some of the closing slots, oh!
Give us some of the falsest hope

We are lies
and go right down through the suction
on the great eye and we climb;
do you know the knee scrapes represent that we thought of design?
It comes in and rolls you out with thoughts of the world not in line;
Do you think that they're imaginary hearts?
It was right to return to pieces of the circle where we declined.
I know military moments will believe us;
it's a sound,
and a tick-tock to the world that tells you how you arrive;
Do you think that we are momentary?

Oooh
Oooh
Give us some of the ghost notes, oh!
Give us some of the chosen, oh!
Give us some of the closing slots, oh!
Give us some of the falsest hope

This is where the like, the like rude choir comes in, alright? it goes like this, it's like:

'Cause we wanna love, wanna sift through the creation time
by night with your thoughts;
you know, I am just a literary fox with a song.
They come in like shells and sink right through the world and the rhyme.
You know pieces of the poetry go out for the cause;
does it feel like something's missing?
Time to concede, for a while, because all that's right is always-
That's what's wrong,
In your mind are the churches right beneath the stairs
in your house and the time,
it's the tick-tock going out and weary...