(There must still be something of consciousness in the effort to decode a message—either in how we arrive at what is made of its meaning or it is all an illusion that simply just feels true—beyond this who could know?) [I] Ah, I — I — I am neverknown. Experience writes my secret ghost — The one sitting closed like a book inside my shelf. You trace the twisted thirsty roots from all our faultlines — These thoughts still waters have never known... So the promises to myself that I've broken... Strange characters lie at my feet — These jagged failures Forget my lessons — Like a life inside a nest of swords. The echo seen, that polished lie — An easy smile, Sincerest "Hi." The version in the light— A simple shape— A vein of color. Just a man. You can hear my echo man, echo man... You can hear my echo man, echo man... Echo Man echo man echo-oh [Instrumental - melodic driving rising arpeggios, 80s synth glamrock build, do not cut short] [II] I keep memory of the shape. What else do I put on? A mask, a vest, a gun — Time to roll off... Who knows the story, What was left behind, Or just the parts that I wrote down? The public vein. Director's cut. The words I wore. The worlds let go. I polish'd the stone until I dropped. A skin un-owned but for the fault lines. The Earth breaks feelings through my bones. Thunder tunes the flood. No skies can rush. Oh these truths I can keep But the secrets I've broken — These characters let go. These characters echo. The Earth rings through tectonic stones. Thunder moves the blood. All wise men rust. A stranger's face I wore that day— I am the only one who sees this moment. And what I know—a view no one owns. The Earth shakes feelings without homes Thunder echoes in drums. All brave men lose. Oh these lies I could keep But the promises I've broken — These characters let go. These characters echo. Thunder echoed from across the road— All strong men break. These characters echo. Echo. Echo-oh. These characters (characters, characters, characters [record skipping]) That stone I have learned to name... (a small weight to carry now.) By any cost that's truly known. By any charge that we could grow. That echo scene, unvarnished truth — Sincerest youth in those dearest lows, The versions in the dark— A shape nobody knows— Bleeding colors. You can hear that echo man, echo of man... You can hear my echo man, echo of man... Echo Man echo man echo-oh Echo Man echo man echo-oh [<sirens in the distance, getting closer>]