| I burn up in empty rooms and stare down hallways
|
| And the light still finds the peels in the painting
|
| Everyday
|
| We’ve been spending too long inside
|
| And we’ll change our minds to new ways of thinking
|
| Everyday
|
| Should’ve maybe tried sooner
|
| I look at your eyeline
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| You stare at the floor
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| Now you’re looking as tired as the paper on these walls
|
| Then I start to remember why you came
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| Can’t ignore all the silence and expect me to explain
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| How we change our minds to new ways of thinking
|
| Everyday
|
| How if I gave you too much you’d drown
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| How the longest line, cast while I was sinking
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| Ended me
|
| Should’ve reeled me in sooner
|
| What if it was now a sound?
|
| Would you play it back?
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| To deafen yourself and then just disappear
|
| Would you play it?
|
| It’s all packed but you never sent
|
| Neatly sealed, perfectly addressed
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| ‘The one who’s living in hot water'
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| It’s the vigour which you dismiss
|
| Thoughts that hide behind silent lips
|
| Always wading through hot water
|
| Take the covers off of me
|
| Who drew the line?
|
| A steady hand, a steady hand
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| I burn up in empty rooms
|
| I burn up in empty rooms |