Lyrics Tell Them I'm Sorry - East Of The Wall

Tell Them I'm Sorry

I suppose it’s quieter now…
You can’t hear the wails enswarming?
Well, that’s a gasp of relief for this small room
God, just think of the stress if they’re sated
Don’t tend to the herds at thy gate
All the parlance in the fields — it’s a tempting charade
The guilt gnaws worse in through all the sorry
So, no, we won’t deal anymore
The pull of the faith, the bait of hope, tore through this road
That clawing outside?
Why can’t we simply turn back tides?
Bring the mouths to the door
It’s enough to turn cold
With the hands open palm
It’s the blood that turns cold
I can’t
Don’t feel like you want to
Don’t meet their eyes
Don’t seem like you want to
Don’t act obliged
Don’t feel that tide’s pull like you want to