We traded in our fairytales for blackout snowstorms,
And falling asleep at the wheel.
Screaming in a darkroom on a December night,
While we developed incriminating evidence against our pathetic hearts.
I'm jealous of the weather,
But I still hate the sun and the moon.
Hollywood's never looked brighter than when it was in fucking flames.
We sat and listened to the sounds of dreams.
It sounds a lot like you crying.
I truly believe that science will save us all.
And I don't think that I can ever recall...
Hearing a piano being played louder.