Magnetic tapes are old bloodstreams for this recording calm machine. We're serving all the jaded hearts of those without a place to start. And washing them all of mistake; ill confidence could never fake the notes and bolts that ring this song: expired tales of love gone wrong. Why do I stay the same? Why do I hear your name on every street, on every path? Luminance. Why do I hear your name? Why do I feel the same in every dream I ever have? Luminance. Standing in a freezing place beyond, until your heart has stopped its chime. Branded with an order number, and washing them all of mistake.