are you listening?
we write a thousand pages, they're torn and on the floor
headlights hammer the windows, we're locked behind these doors
and we are never leaving; this place is part of us
and all these scenes repeating are cold to the touch
my hands seem to decieve me
when i'm nervous or when i'm healthy
the scenery's all drawn...
they hang here, from the walls, dear
painting pictures, bleeding colours
blanket the windows
sometimes it gets so hard to breathe...
your eyes see right through me.
these fights with your arms left beside
it's one thing, and one more says goodnight
you've got the map- come get to me
these knuckles break before they bleed!
tear out these veins that own my heart
this skin that wears your lasting marks
i've built the walls- come get to me
is this your lesson, a slight discretion
the lines that keep you, the lines that sweep you.
lock the doors from the inside...
your face is so contagious
it wears announcements, it leaves me breathless
i won't forget this, i won't forget...
sometimes it gets to hard to breathe
your eyes see right through me
let the walls have their say...
there's no conversation
words without remorse
and this television
drowns the only source
wake from these dreams of
you in my arms
to the staircase
where you hold my heart
this place, these walls...
mean everything to me.
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