We will become silhouttes

I've got a cupboard with cans of food, filtered water, And pictures of you and i'm not coming outUntil this is all overAnd i'm looking through the glass where the light bendsAt the cracksAnd i'm screaming at the top of my lungs pretending The echoes belong to someoneSomeone i used to knowAnd we become silhouettes when our bodies finally goBa ba ba...I wanted to walk through the empty streetsAnd feel something constant under my feet,But all the news reports recommended thatI stay indoorsBecause the air outside will make our cellsDivide at an alarming rate until our shellsSimply cannot hold all our insides in,And that's when we'll explode(and it won't be a pretty sight)And we'll become silhouettes when our bodies finally goBa ba ba...

Postal Service (en recomendación de K)