| I'll stay here lying | |
| on your bed. Even for the rest of | |
| my days. With its side empty | |
| spaced, where you once used to | |
| stay. Have you ever noticed the | |
| glimpses upstairs? These rooms | |
| are all that matter. | |
| And on the | |
| walls these pictures scream and | |
| ask me what I've done to seem so | |
| amused by the way of having done | |
| nothing today. They all have their | |
| eyes covered up with paint. Their | |
| room is all that matters. | |
| I can | |
| walk up the walls, but can't make | |
| water out of wine. So I'm desperate | |
| for some cold rain to wash those | |
| hands of mine. | |
| I'll stay here | |
| listening to the crowds and hear | |
| the footsteps and the shouts. But | |
| it's all passing me by, tangled up | |
| in my own life. Have I missed the | |
| clue of your brave escape? For | |
| this is what - you said - matters. | |
| Some other town, some other day. | |
| Another clown, coming up her way. |
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