Letra da Música: This Wrath - Funeral Diner

Again the face smiles and we're left at an impasse as the trees stretch out above us and
the ground seems to carry on, infinitely. Never to return, with no idea of how we got here in the first place. Is this a blank now? and is the cure
worth the pain? The pen wont move until we've gone further down. The pen won't move until the other hand has dropped, and is that what was hoped for? Dropping off seems to keep more intact and keep us on a more destructive path. This is where the roots grow and spread for miles at a time.