Your Empty Spaces

Such strange infatuation seems to grace the dying night
Such imagination seems to help the feelings slide
Instant correlation sucks and breeds a pack of lies
Oversaturation curls the skin and tans the hide

I'm unclean, a libertine
And every time you vent your spleen
I seem to forget the power of speech
You're slipping slowly from my reach
You've never seen the lonely me at all

They protect me from what I want
They protect me from what I want
You protect me from what they want
You protect me from what they want