I'm around and I've gathered that your words a just a sound
That you hold in the back of your throat and make pretend
The world is fair and in the right tense
I'm around and I've gathered that my words are just as loud
As tow trucks, dragging you in flux and out of your head
The feeling's gone but it's not dead

I've been far away because it's not my day
They all call me out but they're not my crowd
They're way too out of touch

I'm around and I've gathered that I can't escape the clouds
In my bones, clandestine phone calls of common sense
The world's too wide to feel dismissed

Is there anything that I could of been in that box?
In that box made for us...