Who You Are

Come to send, not condescend

Transcendental consequence

Is to transcend where we are

Who are we? Who we are

Trampled moss on your soul

Changes all you're a part

Seen it all, not at all

Can't defend fucked up men

Take me for a ride before we leave

Avalanche falling fast

Driving winds, happenstance

Off the track, in the mud

That's the moss in the aforementioned verse

Just a little time before we leave

Stoplight plays its part

So, I would say you've got a part

What's your part? Who you are

You are who, who you are