| Song | Stranger |
| Artist | Arrange |
| Album | Their Bodies in a Fog |
| I’ve built myself around | |
| What I can’t bare to claim | |
| I’ve painted over all the walls | |
| But they still seem the same | |
| I sit withered in the box, sit withered alone | |
| I held a friend from coming back I told him I didn’t know | |
| This was never anything | |
| The idea that I could be | |
| Wholly reduced from the bottom of everything | |
| I felt foreign in my own hands | |
| Convinced that I’m not a man that could righteously forgive like he ought to be |
| I' ve built myself around | |
| What I can' t bare to claim | |
| I' ve painted over all the walls | |
| But they still seem the same | |
| I sit withered in the box, sit withered alone | |
| I held a friend from coming back I told him I didn' t know | |
| This was never anything | |
| The idea that I could be | |
| Wholly reduced from the bottom of everything | |
| I felt foreign in my own hands | |
| Convinced that I' m not a man that could righteously forgive like he ought to be |