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Are you listening? |
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We write a thousand pages, |
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they're torn and on the floor. |
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Headlights hammer the windows, |
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we're locked behind these doors. |
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And we are never leaving, |
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this place is part of us. |
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And all these scenes repeating are cold to the touch. |
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My hands seem to deceive me |
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When I'm nervous or when I'm healthy. |
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The scenery's all drawn. |
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They hang here from the walls dear, |
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Painting pictures, bleeding colors, |
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Blanket the windows. |
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Sometimes it gets so hard to breathe. |
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Your eyes can see right through me. |
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These fights with your arms left beside. |
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It's one thing and one more says goodnight. |
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You've got the map come get to me. |
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These knuckles break before they bleed. |
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Tear out these veins that own my heart. |
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This skin that wears your lasting marks. |
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I've built these walls come get to me, |
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come get to me. |
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Is this your lesson, a slight discretion, |
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The lines that keep you, the lines that sweep you. |
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Lock the doors from the inside. |
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Your face is so contagious, it wears announcements, |
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It leaves me breathless, |
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I won't forget this, |
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I won't forget. |
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Sometimes it gets so hard to breathe. |
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Your eyes can see right through me. |
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Let the walls have their say. |
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Have their say. |
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There's no conversation, |
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words without remorse. |
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And this television drowns the only source. |
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Wake from these dreams of you in my arms. |
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Go to the staircase where you hold my heart. |
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This place, these walls mean everything to me. |
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ScreamoPierre |
