|
The disconnect |
|
Is welling up |
|
And good intentions are not enough. |
|
Your words are weary |
|
Their hearts are strained |
|
And idle vows find the deepest pains. |
|
I'm sick, I'm tired |
|
Of hollow hope |
|
Of promises, empty |
|
Your way with words |
|
They're feeding back inside my head |
|
Oh, the things I could say that won't change a thing. |
|
I am not the same |
|
I won't feed on fame. |
|
You're one of a thousand voices |
|
In my head that all just sound the same. |
|
If mine never made a difference |
|
It won't make the meaning change. |
|
You're one of a thousand voices |
|
In my head that all just sound the same. |
|
If I will make a change |
|
It's by my words and not my name. |
|
I'm tired, I'm sick |
|
Of misfit beggars |
|
With able tongues and easy outs. |
|
I hear you clearer than you hear yourself. |
|
Bite down on your blindness, and spit it out. |
|
I am not the same |
|
I won't feed on fame. |
|
You're one of a thousand voices |
|
In my head that all just sound the same |
|
If mine never made a difference |
|
It won't make the meaning change |
|
You're one of a thousand voices |
|
In my head that all just sound the same |
|
If I will make a change |
|
It's by my words and not my name. |
|
I won't sink into the sea of grey |
|
(A violence of colour) |
|
I won't melt into the choir of angels |
|
I'll step up and scream it - |
|
I am dissonant. |
|
(A violence of colour) |
|
You're one of a thousand voices |
|
In my head that all just sound the same |
|
If mine never made a difference |
|
It won't make the meaning change |
|
You're one of a thousand voices |
|
In my head that sound the same |
|
If I will make a change |
|
It's by my words and not my name. |
