Текст песни II. - Pulses.

Where is the light at the end of my tunnel?
Freight train or not, I'm ready to scuffle
No leaves on my clover, I'll make my own luck
Glued to the secrets, help me get unstuck
Tear me apart, rip out my conscious
Wear me out, stretch me thin, make me fantastic
4 years ago, my breath remains stiff, this
Worrisome feeling my brain just can't dismiss

Take my burden away
I can't survive the pain

You can feel it in the air, my pickled ambrosia
You can see it in their pores, their sunburnt inertia
Nothing has spoiled, there's nothing to own
The reaper is coming to hitman them folks

Sharpen your pitchfork, over under the gun
Country time flavor, no morals for fun
We're taking over, sir, you better run
Can I take your order? Your sins weigh a ton

No, I'm not impressed with your withering seedlings
Cuz we'll all drop dead at the rate that you're speeding
Into the sun, it's the end, no more pleading
All of the signs, now you're the one misreading
Aggressive words from a cardboard cutout man
Propped up to take them to your own promised land
I can't make sense anymore