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There's not a single breath of air
Not an inch of room to breathe
I've got that hollow sting for westward drawl
But god I hardly knew her
As we drove headlong into wire sun
And a preacher carried on and no voices came
No voices came
Listen as they dance up there, on their way to a coffin
I know there should be some consolation inside
Bon voyage
Bon voyage for the first time
Bon voyage
Behind every child finishes the day
Here photos and there's pictures stuck to the glass
Color faded by the setting sun And the faces that we wouldn't recognize anymore
And the pictures stuck to the broken fucking glass
No voices came

Writer(s): Ethan Shantie

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