I leave at quarter to seven
Cars are there, all the same
He almost made it to heaven
Headlights circle the drain
But I don't know how to quit when I'm losing
Till I'm careening through the concrete siding

Circle of death when it hits
Pixels are making me sick
Thought I was better than this
These kind of things like to show up in disguise
On the hunt for what's left of myself, dead or alive