| It’s the light you see underneath the door
|
| and the shadow of the footsteps on the floor
|
| the hang up call that you can’t ignore
|
| it’s the face you cross the room
|
| that makes your heartbeat fast
|
| and the room reflection in the bottom of the broken glass
|
| just like the night before
|
| The noisy clock beside your bed
|
| even with the pillow wrapped around your head
|
| the voice inside that won’t shut up
|
| the wounding in your chest that just won’t stop
|
| It’s hard to lose the love we make
|
| can’t take the longing
|
| We won’t forget we might forgive
|
| we don’t outlive the longing
|
| It’s the time you spent at the mad in here
|
| as you can’t go home where you have to face
|
| the stupid life you had lived and the others have not worse living
|
| you turn on the light but it’s still pitch dark
|
| and the writing on the wall is a question mark
|
| you don’t know where and you don’t know when
|
| but if you’ll ever have this strange pitch light again
|
| It’s hard to lose the love we make
|
| can’t take the longing
|
| We won’t forget we might forgive
|
| we don’t outlive the longing
|
| The wanting
|
| the needing
|
| the feeling of the reaching for the rest of your life
|
| It’s hard to lose the love we make
|
| can’t take the longing
|
| We won’t forget we might forgive
|
| we don’t outlive the longing
|
| Ohhh the Longing
|
| uhhhhh… |