Supercollider - Hopeless текст песни

I have no hope or teeth to bite
It’s a blazing asphalt path
The road, the road sunk a tarred-and feathered sun
The tree-lined margin of error
The backseat springs are poking at me
It shows, it shows

The stolen tones that drugged them home
The yellow stripe down the back
It’s gold, it’s gold
It’s not the typewriter that’s dumb
We hung the notes out, let ‘em run
You’ll know, you’ll know

Stuccoed the crack in the bell
Shined the old scoreboard
The prize
The denim throat and ancient blurred frets i couldn’t hear
Tuned your used ticket
Punched my crooked drum
Searched for the perfect change and bronzed the thin tracks i couldn’t hear