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Why burn poor and lonely |
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Under a bowl or under a lampshade |
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Or on the shelf beside the bed |
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Where at night you lay turning like a door on it's hinges |
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First on your left side, then on your right side |
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Then your left side again |
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Why burn poor and lonely? |
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Tell all the stones, we're gonna make a building |
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We'll be cut into shape and set into place |
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Or if you'd rather be a window, I'll gladly be the frame |
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Reflecting any kind of words, we'll let in all the blame |
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And ruin our reputation all the same |
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So never mind out plan making, we'll start living |
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Anyway, aren't you unbearably sad? |
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Then why burn so poor and lonely? |
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We'll be like torches, we'll be like torches |
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We'll be like torches, we'll be torches together |
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Torches together |
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We'll be like torches, we'll be like torches |
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With whatever [Incomprehensible] our tattered dignity demands |
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Torches together, hand in hand |
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Why pluck one string, what good is just one note? |
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Oh, one string sounds fine, I guess but we were once 'One Note' |
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We were lonely wheat, quietly ground in the grain |
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What light and momentary pain |
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So why this safe distance, this curious look? |
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Why tear our single pages when you can throw away the book? |
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Why pluck one string when you can strum the guitar |
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Strum the guitar, strum the guitar |
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Strum the guitar with no beginning, with no end |
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Take down the guitar and strum the guitar |
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Strum the guitar if you're afraid and I'm afraid, everyone's afraid |
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And everyone knows it but we don't have to be afraid anymore |
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You played the flute but no one was dancing |
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You sang a sad song but no one was crying |
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You played the flute but no one was dancing |
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And you sang a sad song but no one was crying |
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You played the flute but no one was dancing |
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You sang a sad song but no one was crying |
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You played the flute but no one was dancing |
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And you sang a sad song, you sang a sad song, sad song |
