[Jeremy Bolm, Jeff Eaton]

This, this may
This may read like an epitaph
A commemorative telling on my behalf
But before this thing gets dated and printed
We're gonna need a few more witnesses

My eyes are weak, so I could never focus
On decisions that have left me hopeless
I've chiseled my initials in the shovel
That I've been using to dig my own hole

Driving faster in the wrong direction
Convincing them this was expected
I've lost my mirrors through the crashes
So looking back just can't happen

Living up to how we feel about ourselves:
One foot in the grave;
One foot in our mouths

When you hear those sirens, just know that they're for us
When you hear those sirens, just know that they're for us
When you hear those sirens, just know that they're for us
You'll know who we are (by the mark on our sleeve)
In the shape of a heart (that never could beat)