It got to resembling a vaudeville show, the show of shows, such comedy = unserpassed as juvenile theatrics go, but who am I to tell you to = contain yourself? And who are you to tell me to control it? When we both = have prepared so carefully. One day you'll know we never meant eachother = harm in any way, one day you'll know we never meant eachother sorrow, = gotta keep my distance. I keep sifting through the loot to find the = stairs, this business burning to the ground, I can't look back my = hindsight seems to be impared, my outlook has no holds to see out. It's = starting to hurt when I open my arms too wide, a milky white haze = invades my vision, my lungs are heavy with your presence as if you were = standing right behind me, and I can't bring myself to turn around, gotta = keep my distance.