To boldly clap in a room full of nothing You never know, it could be one of those Poignant evenings. Museum's locked and it's long since past Closing, You cannot know, you cannot not know What you're knowing What can you do, they're all gone And we'll go too. The curtain climbs over me every morning. I don't know why I'm so immunized Against reforming. To coldly slap at a face full of nothing, You never know it could've been one of those Looks of longing. What can you do, they're all gone And we'll go too.