don't open till doomsday Lyrics

Memory is itself a fugue

Me, a cloud, trying to reign it in

Residues collected there

Like dew on grass that I despise

Wouldn't be so bad

Just if I could condense, be solid

Make the appropriate observations

Not living in a fog, but as a fog

The gloom and danger on a fall night

The pain of a dull stretching ache

Settling into the joints

With a sharpness that jolts and mobilizes

Taking the ground in my hands

Squeezing it into a figure

I'll be here then as now

An ambivalence marked by intensity

Always having been in hiding

It will be drawn out

With each defeat

Doomsday is postponed for at least one more day

We just don't know when we'll go