We wake up dead Thought she was the one And most of us run And the postcards don’t come And in our heads Like some kind of rush Pressure hot to the touch Stubborn never enough Letters under the door And mom doesn’t write anymore Well she does but we don’t know the code Holocene Dark nights when we sleep Darker still in the street Darker still when they leave And in between Pressure turning to screams So sharp we can’t breathe It’s a f****ng routine And we’re never alone So why do we feel so alone We ask as we turn up the speed We let ‘em go So quick that it’s slow They’re plated in gold So rich but so cold And spirits low A thorn but no rose We’re stumbling home With nowhere to go And we’re so f****ng poor But they only know how to pour So we wander as they go to sleep