Pressures In The Pipe

We rising from the dust in the basement corner Every

single step is a silent warning

Dim light green paint peeling on the brick wall Heavy shadows creeping

down the narrow hallway hall Four walls closing but we standing up

tall Waiting for the signal to break through it all (break it

down)

Pressure in the pipe,

steam on the glass No one in this room is living in

the past (never again)

We hit the floor,

break the frame, light the spark!

We are the heavy-footed movement in the dark!

(yeah) No looking back,

we are writing the design Every single beat is a line crossing

time!

Concrete floor cold beneath the worn-out soles Gathering the fragments of our

ancient goals (we got this) Writing out the history in permanent marker

ink We don't need a map when we stand at the brink

Corner pocket... We stay standing...