Things, Rituals, Things
One day, when everyone here is gone
Grass will cover these fields
And they'll find sings of life
Fossilised phones, four-inch screens
They'll patch together the pieces of our lives here
'Cos we left everything behind
And we had rituals
We buried our dead, we buried the dead
Yeah we had rituals
And they'll find signs of life
And our bones and four-inch screens