| I suggest you take time from your war | |
| Don't make prisoners, just kill me straight off | |
| You don't even see | |
| I don't want to fight | |
| But don't wait for me to strike back | |
| This wound is too big to cover | |
| I'm sure I drown in the void | |
| Of the days you left behind | |
| Of the games you left without rules | |
| Of all of the nights that now pile up | |
| In the space you left behind | |
| And in your absence, my senses | |
| Turn fearful, turn quick | |
| They see everything, anything, too much, not enough | |
| Not enough | |
| And in your absence, my senses | |
| Turn fearful, turn quick | |
| They see everything, anything, too much, not enough | |
| I suggest you come back to this cemetery | |
| I pile up all the bones you broke in me | |
| Bring a flower and sweep all the ashes | |
| Take the frames that still hang from the wall | |
| And in your absence, my senses | |
| Turn fearful, turn quick | |
| They see everything, anything, too much, not enough | |
| No, not enough | |
| Not enough |