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It's yours right, this house with the boarded up doors right. Poor site, like maybe it's mine and you made it in time with the foresight to light a torch, and torch this place. Co-ordinate my life with yours, private wars and a chore to relate in a world that you made full of minor chords. Find the oars, lie in the wake. Quiet your mind, they're lying in wait. They're firing everything all over everywhere, everyone in the asylum is safe.
A haunting reflection on a dilapidated home, blending themes of personal struggle and connection. It explores the chaos of life, the search for peace, and the safety found amidst turmoil.