The malls are open, the morgues are full
Don't come to LA
This dystopia's a metaphorical-tool
For the words that I can't say
Travel's nice, but I'm scared of heights
Turbulence, and decayed
Purpose disguised in suitcase tags
But 21's looking great
The ash in the air makes me gag
I don't leave my mask in the front seat
I read somewhere that it could be a man
Burned into eternal retreat
New cities are great, but I'm so afraid
Of the reflections that don't know me
4 years ago, I'd be glad to exist
Now the future's so unlikely
Oh I'm the girl
Who wonders
What am I even here for
