Testo No Amount Of Sound

Footsteps, they followed mother's death
They followed suit and peeled the paint off the walls

Behind a metal desk inside a modern mausoleum
you have found your calling, calling for fall

No amount of sound could make us fade the way you're fading now
Lost way, current emotional states left folding gold under a fluorescent light It’s a touch agoraphobic, I suggest a catatonic height but chondriac's suggestions weight

I held your hand, I drew a line in the sand
I couldn’t bare to think you're losing your mind
But when the red flag bolted up is when your outlook started shifting
Just a shift requires valued time

You need to write this down

No amount of sound could make us fade the way you're fading now
When will you fade out?

Footsteps, they followed mother's death
They followed suit and peeled the paint off the walls