This house aches |
| I whistle it's tune |
| After so much noise |
| Freedom is silence |
Half the house is missing |
| Taken half of me with it |
| I had imagined this |
| Hurting in a different way |
| Hurting in a different way |
I still have the hi-fi |
| Quiet at all volumes |
| As my dull thoughts |
| Echo viscous and slow like the tolling of some great bell under water |
When she cries she cuts me |
| And when she smiles I wanna die |
| Afraid of knowing myself |
| Our eyes stare out while we hide inside |
Looking at it, not seeing it |
| Looking at it, not seeing it |
The open windows |
| Let in the spring air today |
| And the birds sing their thankfully happy, brainless song |
| But the silence here finds a way to stay |
| Some kind of explosion |
| God, if you hear me |
| Throw me a line or strike me down |
| Do you refuse even to accuse |
| C'mon, do your worst |
| But lift this curse |
Built this house on solid ground |
| But now it's crumbling tumbling down |
| Will nobody here even cry out for help? |
| As it slowly collapses into itself |
Looking at it, not seeing it |
| Looking at it, not seeing it |
Hanging on to this pain |
| It's no good |
| It's no good |
But we try again |
We try again |