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.