This is a waltz thinking about our bodies 
 What they mean for our salvation 
 The little clothes that we stand up in 
 Just the ground on which we stand 
 Is the darkness ours to take? 
 Bathed in lightness, 

 Bathed in heat 
 All is well, as long as we keep spinning 

 Here and now, 

 Death still behind a wall 
 When the old songs and laughter we do 
 Are forgiven always and never been true 
 When I arrive, 

 Will you come and find me? 
 Or in a crowd, 

 Be one of them? 
 Wore the wrong sign back beside her 
 No tomorrow's at peace 

 "Suspirium" by THOM YORKE