Leaking words with no appeal
Waking up at the crack of noon
To scratch the wounds that never heal
Looking out the tiny window
That they say I shouldn't think about
I saw the blind leading the dead
Decided to keep it to myself
Drawing faces in the sand
Supposed to be my friend
Drawing lines under the door
Supposed to be my way out
I've never told a lie in my whole life
If you don't count that one
That is
I never said that you could stay
But I pray every night
For you to come back
Drawing faces in the sand
Supposed to be my friends
Drawing spaces on the ground
Supposed to be my abstract love for you
Waking up surrounded by smiling faces
Trying to decide which one to trust
Sitting up in a sterile bed
Wondering what to fear as I turn to dust
As they teach young dog new tricks
Old dog sneaks out the back
Oh, it feels good
To be back
Drawing faces in the sand
Turn into my friends and then back again
Drawing lines in the dirt
Step across if you think I should
Lying on a bed of stars
Staring all the way back
At the ground
Lying about the trivial things
What does it matter to me now?
Drawing your face in the sand
But the nose is all wrong
Drawing my face beside of that
And we are together again
