Molasses

Might not get, might not get any better
 Might not, might not get, might not get any better
 Might not, might not get, might not get any better
 Might not, might not get, might not get any better
 You the born hunter
 Relic with an armored heart
 Color of sulfur
 Banished to a single arc
 Porcelain smolder and don't forget you're state of the art
 Buried deep in the soil, selfless or daft
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 It could be a compass, rare and so bountiful
 It could be the opposing opinion
 It could be the point of traction bound to all
 It could be the point of letting it go
 Running with my eyes closed
 Blinding the lens with the focus
 Running with my eyes closed
 Finding omens in the woodwork
 I see cold cold braille
 Mechanical and frail
 How do I tessellate, filter the rage
 You the born hunter
 Relic with an armored heart
 Color of sulfur
 Banished to a single arc
 Porcelain smolder and don't forget you're state of the art
 Buried deep in the soil, selfless or daft
 
 Might not get any better, get any better
 Oh better, better
 Might not get any better, get any better
 Oh better, better
 Better, better
 Better, better
 Better, better
 Better, better
 Better, better
 Better, better
 Better, better
 Better, better
 It could be a compass, rare and so bountiful
 It could be the opposing opinion
 It could be the point of traction bound to all
 It could be the point of letting it go