Текст: Death Cab For Cutie. Stability.

time for the final bout. rows of deserted houses:
all our stable mates are highway bound.
give us our measly sum:
getting the air inside my lungs is heavenly.
we're starting out with nothing but crippling doubt.
we'll rest easy (justified).
i've suffered a swift defeat, i'll endure countless repeats.
the gift of memory is an awful curse.
with age it just gets much worse, but i won't mind.