|
I may know the word |
|
But not say it |
|
I may know the truth |
|
But not face it |
|
I may hear a sound |
|
A whisper |
|
Sacred and profound |
|
But turn my head indifferent |
|
I may know the word |
|
But not say it |
|
I may love the fruit |
|
But not taste it |
|
I may know the way |
|
To comfort and |
|
To soothe a worried face |
|
But fold my hands indifferent |
|
If I'm on my knees, I'm begging now |
|
If I'm on my knees gropin' in the dark |
|
I'd be praying for deliverance |
|
From the night into the day |
|
But it's all grey here |
|
It's all grey here |
|
But it's all grey to me |
|
I may know the word |
|
But not say it |
|
This may be the time |
|
But I might waste it |
|
Though this may be the hour |
|
Something move me |
|
Someone prove me wrong |
|
Before night comes with indifference |
|
If I'm on my knees, I'm begging now |
|
If I'm on my knees gropin' in the dark |
|
I'd be praying for deliverance |
|
From the night into the day |
|
If I'm on my knees, I'm begging now |
|
If I'm on my knees gropin' in the dark |
|
I'd be praying for deliverance |
|
From the night into the day |
|
But it's all grey here |
|
It's all grey here |
|
But it's all grey to me |
|
I recognize the walls inside |
|
I recognize them all |
|
I've paced between them |
|
Chasing demons down until they fall |
|
In fitful sleep, enough to keep their strength |
|
Enough to crawl into my head |
|
With tangled threads, they riddle me to solve |
|
Again and again and again and again |
