Distress In The Control Tower

"We're surrounded just drop the gun." the fields have been cut off with stars and black windmills the ticking clock spins out of control erosion claims the monuments wires rust sets the ghost with such hollow empty sound breaking on it's touch to eardrums traversing these low vibrations to an awful piercing pitch so tear us down so we can cut our throats leaving the words written in sky no we won't put these hands down tonight breathing takes practice and it's practice we missed so we die end transmission we're giving up climb the spires in hopes of the flowing uncut grass climbs up our legs in efforts to drag us down hidden from the stand off as if they wouldn't look turn the lights low wasting precious time wait for no one tell it like it is sudden full reverse. breathing takes practice and it's practice we missed so we die end transmission we're giving up climb the spires in hopes of the flowing uncut grass. "We're surrounded just drop the gun." the fields have been cut off with stars and black windmills the ticking clock spins out of control.