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Verse 2 Mirrors keep their secrets tucked inside the gilded seam Fingers trace the fracture like an omen or a scheme Neon prophets in the glass predict a flawless fall We trade our careful breathing for the spectacle of all

Pre-Chorus (variation) Pressure writes its language on the ribs of every town Lines become a map of stress; we learn to follow down pure onyx crack full

Pre-Chorus Pressure nests behind the rib, a small revolt rehearsed Edges sharpen in the dark, teeth waiting to be burst Verse 2 Mirrors keep their secrets tucked inside