Текстове на песни:
The Riot Before Fists Buried In Pockets

So he works the fields from 5 to 9 Plus any job that he can find Saves up all his money, sends it to his family Before he falls asleep at night A thousand

Well I'm not gonna call you right now, Cuz that feels too much like begging Well I'm not one for begging No no no no no I am an island I won't admit

The venue is filled floor to ceiling with smoke So tonight I'm walking these streets all alone Fists buried in pockets, clenched against the persisting

A scientist a golden age Impending finitude of progression made And the doom of knowing knowing's limits That they could come any day A selfish wish

Repeat like the beat of a a dance floor hold out for the grace of a discord there's a signal flare flying high in the air right above where the survivors

in the largest of oceans Through unceasing motion I'll cling to the constants Sunrise and the sunset Tempered yet unquiet With fists buried in pockets