| Souls suffer the landscape
|
| In shrouds of dew, as ghosts.
|
| Their eternity is for searching
|
| But a certain dissension grows.
|
| I’ve seen them wander,
|
| Voices raised in prayer
|
| Consorting with whisper,
|
| They curse the ones not there.
|
| If you didn’t want this and I didn’t need it,
|
| Then how has this interest become an addiction?
|
| If you didn’t want it, then why can’t you do without?
|
| I know I’m not your first one,
|
| But I pray I’ll be your last.
|
| I’ve never seen you cry before,
|
| But I know when I make you laugh.
|
| I know and you know, you’ve heard this all before…
|
| These arms are for holding on.
|
| This heart won’t stray from home.
|
| If you didn’t want this and I didn’t need it,
|
| Then how has this interest become an addiction?
|
| If you didn’t want it, then why can’t you do without?
|
| I know, I know, I know…
|
| God tell me, where’s my Halo?
|
| If you didn’t want this and I didn’t need it,
|
| Then how has this interest become an addiction?
|
| If you didn’t want it, then why can’t you do without?
|
| If you didn’t want this and I didn’t need it,
|
| Then how has this interest become an addiction?
|
| If you didn’t want it, then why can’t you do… without? |