| The tight lipped fever found her way again with one embrace | |
| A rapid pulse could give it away | |
| And she'll move on to where | |
| We must have been milleniums ahead of comprehending | |
| Synchronized time collapsing and she'll move on | |
| With foreheads numb we move to feel | |
| And set the clocks aside | |
| We move to synchronize in stares, in start and pause | |
| Oh my God we were not intended for this tight lipped fever that found her way again | |
| Tongues explode in our archaic demise | |
| Time forgave everything within her to discover disguise | |
| A convenient lapse of a memory |
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