This exile reads me

Cut City

Compositor: Cut City

Grow to be cold
Voices leave their mark
Hear the message sent
I'm desperate for accident
This might serve a purpose
If we're acting naturally

Through these vacant streets
This exile wears the midnight light
Desperate for accidents
Because we could be all around
We would be the people
That never leaves the ground

I remember when privacy meant I wanted you to intrude
No written safe-keeping or drunken interlude
Just certain exile from today