Act II: Sonar
Robert Bloomfield, Matthew Hasting
Six withered eyes fixed on fingertips
Dark wood grain under the black letters
The floor it creaks, as the rain it drips
Thunder and lightning, no time better
Suddenly everything goes as olanned
And we can't believe our eyes
We ask it moves our hands
Slowly waiting on her reply
Tonight I wake you
Tonight I see your face
Pale skin and deja vu
Smell of dust as candles drip and nervous tension builds
The planchette shifts, the flames they dance
And all the shadows skip
Six widened eyes fixed on finger tips
I H.E.A.R. Y.O.U
Suddenly everything foes as planned
And we can't believe our eyes
We ask and it moves out hands
Slowly waiting on her reply