You smell like burning luggage, lighting fires on the hillsides, you remind me of Alaska and other places that I've been to, but I've been swimming in the noises of all these other people, trying to hold it all together and pretend like everything's like normal. But, I'm down, what do you want from me? Don't you know what counts? You sound like falling airplanes and you scream at me to watch you, as you fall through stained-glass windows into other peoples houses, but my knees are weak, my knees are weak. And I'm down, what do you want from me? Don't you know what counts?