Hide & Seek - Imogen Heap

Where are we?

What the hell is going on?

The dust has only just begun to fall,

Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.

Spin me round again and rub my eyes.

This can’t be happening.

When busy streets a mess with people

would stop to hold their heads heavy.

Oily marks appear on walls

Where pleasure moments hung before.

The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this

still life.

Hide and seek.

Trains and sewing machines.

(Oh, you won’t catch me around here)

Blood and tears,

They were here first.

Oily marks appear on walls

Where pleasure moments hung before.

The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this

still life.