Maybe everythings alright. Maybe all the chairs are 
always spoken for. We got workers in back and the light 
is on their eyes but the sadness in your face is beside 
you with a grin. You've mistaken all the homes and 
inspirations for the cage. How was I supposed to know 
that we were never meant for this? You're the reason we 
already know and I believe you can call this weekend-
mission: success, but there's a scratch across the lens.
We cataloged all our fears that you treasured and you 
hoped was here to stay. This is the cut of the director 
and we got scenes out of our way. When there's a scratch 
across the lens, all is lost. Hey, wait... we hold our 
breath as we pass everyone sleeping.