Sweeping sliently underneath the bed, all those empty pages of things you thought had meant something. That leaky ink pen was beginning to fade anyway. But there is no room for mistakes this time, and you've used that last jagged piece of eraser that you've had for as long as you could remember, maybe then..... this is it this time, maybe those things you thought meant so much never meant much at all. Maybe this is it.

We've been chasing lies baby, we've been runnin out of breath, cause pictures, frames and memories are all that we've got left.