|
I'm looking out my window, |
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I can see all the good and the bad, |
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And I'm trying to be thankful, |
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For all the past fortunes I've had, |
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I'm standing at the window, |
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Trying to stay off the ledge, |
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'Cause when you're drawn to the window, |
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You're also drawn to the edge. |
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If there's a hole in your soul, |
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Think about it as though, |
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It's nothing more than a window, |
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And you can look deep within, |
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Then start to begin, |
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To repair what damage there is. |
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I'm staring into the window, |
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I can see my pain in its pane, |
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I'm trapped inside the window, |
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Encased in its frame, |
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I'm trying to open the window, |
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Pushing against the glass, |
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Is it a passage to the future, |
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Or a portal to the past? |
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If there's a hole in your soul?... |
