(Johnson, Frederiksen). Out of the past. On a moon-jet from out of bound. Try to relax. When my church runs me out of town. Fathom a chance. To behold what you never knew.
Shine a different light on a piece of me. Right before these eyes you delicately breathe. On this killing floor everything I see. Is living and hanging over me.
If only you could see behind my eyes. You would count the stars that fill the skies. I've tried to pretend that they're not there. But now I look around and see them everywhere.