|
How rich is your surface |
|
How much do you care |
|
Does your blue heart turn away |
|
How deep is that stare |
|
Time hints that it's on your side |
|
Don't think it's there |
|
What's past could be a teaser line |
|
Between mind and air |
|
Was it a lie |
|
Was it the truth |
|
Does your blue heart turn away |
|
As you hit the roof |
|
I never seem to get the drift |
|
When I hear some crowd talk |
|
It isn't only their chat-chat-chatter |
|
Or the one line track of thought |
|
Isolation lies like dread |
|
Outcast fears |
|
In which they are so so locked |
|
Reduced to tears |
|
Reduced to |
|
Was it a lie |
|
Was it the truth |
|
Does blue heart turn away |
|
As you hit the roof |
|
Interviewed your dreams |
|
Walked on thin air |
|
No time to wonder now |
|
As I break through their stare |
|
Would they understand |
|
If I were to show |
|
That their answers burned to ground |
|
So I turned to go |
|
So I turned to |
|
Was it a lie |
|
Was it the truth |
|
Does your blue heart turn away |
|
As you hit the roof |