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• Artiste: Burning Airlines
• Titre: I Sold Myself In
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A 2 pm morning I'm greeting the end of meaning. Open my mind just a crack, and look what crawls in. Now I'm trying to keep my head above your dead pool, deep end. I sold myself in in on the joke of the spin. But this burned-in cynical grin is fading again. Turning the hooks to catch nothing, I'm let off. You live in your head and love no-one, at all. Spotlit marks for your self-styled comic book sharpshooter blind spots before. I sold myself in in on the joke of the spin. Now this burned-in cynical grin is fading again. Peeling those tired eyes to steal and refine some sleek pitch line. Wide of the mark, pressed to define Connect the dots, line by line.