Picture of a Tree That Doesn't Look OK
The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die Lyrics

Do you think the landlord's pissed?
The landlord may be upset because we left a car parked on the lawn again.

He's looking.
We can see that he's searching for the person who left a car on the lawn.

The porch is still and empty.
No one is currently occupying the porch, it's quiet and still.

We wrote our friends names on the walls inside.
In this temporary home, we left a mark of our friendship by writing their names on the walls.

They're laughing
Our friends are amused by our writing on the walls.

We know that this isn't home for long.
We are aware that this is just a temporary place to stay and we won't be here for long.

The posters in your bedroom speak softly.
The posters in your room are quietly communicating.

They tell stories.
The posters have stories to tell, hidden in their images and words.

So while the weather's getting worse we take shelter in these walls again and tell stories.
As the weather outside worsens, we find comfort in this temporary home and share stories with each other.

So where did you live and what did you learn there?
I'm curious about your past and where you've lived, what experiences you've had.

We watch the fallen leaves turn to frozen trees, it's been another year.
As we observe the changing seasons, we realize another year has passed by.

Where do the echoes from the echoes go?
I wonder where the repeated sounds go, those echoes of echoes.

Where does the water flow when it leaves our homes.
After the water exits our abodes, where does it travel to?

I've been searching for this, something that I can run away with.
I've been looking for something to escape with, to run far away and start anew.

It's a life changing decision.
This choice will drastically alter my life.

Should I leave or try to beat this? (I know it gets harder everyday.
Should I give up and leave this place, or try and overcome the obstacles that challenge me every day.

But the dawn will fade and our skin will flake away.) Where do the echoes from the echoes go?
Eventually time will pass us by and we will deteriorate, but my curiosity still stands about where the echoes of echoes fade away to.

Where does the water flow once it leaves our homes.
I'm asking again, where does the water go once it exits our abodes?

Live wires are like this.
Live wires are similar to the situation I'm in right now.

They hit the streets and form a beacon.
These dangerous wires attach to the streets and create a signal.

It's a danger we've been warned, but we still stretch and try to reach them.
Even though we've been alerted to the danger, we still attempt to come close and touch them.

Watching our planet grow on screens I spoke into a window sill and still forgot everything and it spoke back.
As I observe the growth of our planet through digital screens, I spoke to the window sill and it replied, muddling my thoughts.

A thousand frozen trees but still there's something burning. (I will stare while you are growing.
Despite the numerous trees outside, there's an intense burning sensation present. While you grow, I'll silently observe.

Come with me to empty places.) They are filled with everything.
Join me in places that seem devoid of meaning, as they are actually full of hidden significance.

Where do the pieces of our dreams recede?
Where do our dreams go and fade away to?

Into eyes shut that are opening.
Perhaps they vanish into the newly opened eyes of the dreamer.

I never have ever decided what to think of all the years I spent in Connecticut. (Whenever, if ever I get my life together I'll apologize for all the things I should have said)
I never reached a conclusion about my time in Connecticut, and if I ever manage to get my life together I'll apologize for the mistakes I made.

So beat on the bass drum, make all the spiders run.
Beat the drum loud, make even the spiders scatter and flee.

We threw rocks at the house and it looked back. (and done.
We threw rocks at the house, and it seems as if it retaliated and harmed us instead. It's already over.

Another day lost to the setting sun.
Another day has passed, lost to the setting of the sun.

I stare at the ceiling and it looks back.
As I stare up at the ceiling, it seems to be staring back at me.