Burnt Glass Hearts

{Captain Quinn's confident, laid-back whisper cutting through a melancholic,

weeping electric

guitar intro} "Alright crew,

Quinn's steering this one straight down the middle of the dark and

the light.

Let's ride."

Lighting up a cigarette outside the boundary line,

Laughing with Jordan while the neon stars align.

You gotta step beyond the blueprints just to feel the pulse,

Before the safe and rigid structures swallow up results.

Inside the box is freezing,

a concrete-sealed routine,

While outside is the ancient forest,

wild and evergreen. {Heavy distorted power chords drop in alongside a crisp,

rolling trap hi-hat} We build our fenced properties to keep the cold

away,

Trading open canopies for walls that start to gray.

Oh, the box is a structural construct,

a fortress we built in the dark,

Wielding our polished steel blades like we're searching for any old spark!

Is happiness wandering free or trapped inside of the room?

We're trading the dirt of the forest for an engineered kind of

gloom.

Outside we breathe in the wildfire,

inside we try to find rest,

And Joan says that somehow the divine order is always the best

:)

Total autonomy locked over every square inch of enclosed real estate,

Respecting the deeds and the private land titles that dictate our fate.

Raw emo-trap static cutting straight through the doubt,

Analyzing the perimeters of what we are crying about.

We left the ancient timber for a roof over our head,

Now we pace our private properties wondering where the wildness fled.

{Beats cut completely to a lonely,

weeping guitar melody and close-mic vocals} The forest never asked you for

a deed or a legal decree,

It just grows without permission,

wonderfully, fiercely free. Can you stretch a life out longer if you

never taste the wind?

Can you find a quiet salvation when you're trapped where you began?

{A massive wave of distorted guitars and heavy 808 sub-bass explodes back

in} We hold our shiny silver blades up high against the night...

{Gritty, emotional

emo-rock guitar solo

bleeding through

a heavy trap beat} Oh,

the box is a structural construct,

a fortress we built in the dark,

Wielding our polished steel blades

like we're searching for any old spark!

Is happiness wandering free

or trapped inside of the room?

We're trading the dirt of the forest for an engineered kind of

gloom. Outside we breathe in the wildfire,

inside we try to find rest,

And Joan says that somehow the divine order is always the best

:) {Guitars filtering out into a low,

atmospheric distortion tail and a cool,

calm sign-off} Tiguidou...

Quinn

navigating us safely into the next cycle.

{Final

echoing guitar pluck

dissolving

into absolute silence}