| [00:23.000] |
Through wires and waves, our voices carry |
| [00:28.000] |
Such careful words that we can barely speak out loud |
| [00:39.000] |
We found an ocean when we needed land |
| [00:46.000] |
We drowned in words when we needed a hand |
| [00:51.000] |
So we plead for night, and the sun keeps on spilling light |
| [00:58.000] |
There's a fine line, a fine line in between |
| [01:07.000] |
Our progress and our instability |
| [01:18.000] |
We can't help ourselves but hunt for more |
| [01:26.000] |
A design flaw? or the olive branch that proves the shore |
| [01:36.000] |
The catalyst we've waited for |
| [01:47.000] |
We live and die under the thumb of fear |
| [01:52.000] |
As though the finish line will merely disappear |
| [01:56.000] |
If we take one less step, even to catch our breath |
| [02:04.000] |
We once felt safe, like no cure was needed |
| [02:10.000] |
Our vocabularies had no room for “defeated” |
| [02:15.000] |
But we grew up quick and became connoisseurs of it |
| [02:22.900] |
There's a fine line, a fine line in between |
| [02:33.700] |
Our progress and our instability |
| [02:42.800] |
We can't help ourselves but hunt for more |
| [02:52.800] |
A design flaw? or the olive branch that proves the shore |
| [03:02.800] |
The catalyst we've waited for |
