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Moving you from your chosen seat's like |
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Rolling away the stone |
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Queen Anne's lace so delicate and quiet |
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Hands are green from trying to pull you up |
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But you can't feed someone who isn't hungry |
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Or has no taste for you. |
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and there's some sorts of food that you must eat with company |
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And this is one of those afternoons |
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Moving you from your chosen seat's like |
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Opening cathedral doors. |
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Two feet wide and 10 feet high |
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Holy faces smile down from the wood |
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Sincere as a mountain |
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But just as tired |
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You'd sooner stay where you are |
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Cause you can't feed someone who isn't hungry |
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Or has no taste for you |
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and there's some sorts of food that you must eat with company |
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and this is one of those afternoons |
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It's breathing behind me, |
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I'm too scared for moving |
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It's like running through water |
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It's like getting you going |
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You can't feed someone who isn't hungry |
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Or has no taste for you |
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And there's some sorts of food that you must eat with company |
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And this is one of those afternoons |
