forget your calculus who will forget us maybe everything is meant to last bones and articles of clothing pass buried underneath the line and grass directions South or North my compass broke from course bury underneath the line and dirt (fools know more than gold it’s written fools) you wanted it you got it (yeah) what is the world to you treasures and oooolllldddd rocks what will we leave behind who will remember us (they say it’s fake the archaeology of lives i leave mine for you)
