| Don’t try to wake me up
|
| Even if the sun really does come out tomorrow
|
| Don’t believe anything you say
|
| Anymore, in the morn, in the morning
|
| Bricks to this old house are breaking
|
| Steel would have weathered but now forlorning
|
| It’s alarming how loud the silence screams
|
| No warn, no warn, no warning
|
| Addictions fill the table where the family used to sit
|
| And conversate
|
| Conversate to the sounds
|
| To the sounds of a record player
|
| With it’s jumping needle and the lights that grow dim over time
|
| With downcast eyes
|
| There’s more to living than being alive
|
| With downcast eyes
|
| There’s more to living than being alive
|
| Are you where you thought you’d be
|
| So beautiful and only twenty-three
|
| Opposition rests in the hearts
|
| With no, with no, with no opportunity
|
| It’s not that we don’t talk
|
| It’s just no one really listens and honesty fades
|
| Like a politician lost in the course
|
| All smiles and no one remembers our names
|
| With downcast eyes
|
| There’s more to living than being alive
|
| With downcast eyes
|
| There’s more to living than being alive
|
| With downcast eyes
|
| There’s more to living than being alive
|
| With downcast eyes
|
| There’s more to living than being alive
|
| Don’t try to wake me up
|
| Even if the sun really does come out tomorrow
|
| Don’t believe anything I say
|
| Anymore, in the morn, in the morning
|
| With downcast eyes
|
| There’s more to living than being alive
|
| With downcast eyes
|
| There’s more to living than being alive
|
| With downcast eyes
|
| There’s more to living than being alive
|
| With downcast eyes
|
| There’s more to living than being alive |