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I can see their eyes, and you never will believe it |
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I can hear their cries, but you wouldn't want to hear them |
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I recant my lies, but they never will believe me |
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My conscience will keep on, and the fault is my own. |
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There's calm in these banquet years, so I tend to obsess |
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About youth, before the guilt appeared. But I need to forget. |
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Outside the lamppost sways from their angry hands |
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As I sleep a troubled sleep, a coldness on my feet |
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And it only gets much colder before dawn. |
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I can see their eyes, but you wouldn't want to see them |
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I can hear their cries, but you wouldn't want to hear them |
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I recant my lies, but they never will believe me |
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My conscience is too strong, and my feet can't run |
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It's true, there's calm with no one here, but the stillness is death |
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The Windows on my street start to come alive and breath |
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I can hear them singing what I've done |
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I can see their eyes, but you wouldn't want to see them |
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I can hear their cries, but you wouldn't want to hear them |
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I recant my lies, but they never will believe me |
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My conscience is too strong, I'll be theirs by dawn |
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I can see their eyes, but you wouldn't want to see them |
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I can hear their cries, but you wouldn't want to hear them |
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I ruined my life, but you wouldn't want to see it |
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My conscience is too strong, and tonight I'll be gone |
