The Number Twelve Looks Like You
I’ll Make My Own Hours
Ten thousand times, I could tell you over
How many times I would rip through walls
Ten thousand times, I could tell you over

I wrote a library of books in that back closet
Scraping at the walls with my knees in a magazine
Roll her on out just to slide her back in
Roll her on out just to slide her back in
Unravelling, unravelling
Unravelling, unravelling
Unravelling
Rolls into their machinery and click away

This was where you could embrace misery
With enough energy, you could talk yourself
You could talk yourself out of anything
A mind in flight, full of addiction; a circulating masterpiece

This glorious night, as I trip
The horizon is vertical

I'd burn this place down
If I had a match
I'd burn this, burn this place down
If I had a match
My, my nicotine
Hands, hands are shaking
A, a frantic voice
Is, is at the

Other end of the receiver
"Won't you even tell me
A portion of the problem?"
To ease my ears

I grab a fistful of air and lunge at your face

How many times?
Ten thousand times, I could tell you over
Ten thousand times
Ten thousand times, I could tell you over
(How many times)
Ten thousand times
(I would rip through walls and ticking a typing)