They appear in utter sadness,
or if there is something in our eye
they stream our sudden feelings,
but it's okay, we all do cry
We hold them close,
or set them free
when times are good,
or misery
To float, to fly, to wonder high
in Paris by the Louvre
in arms, in eyes, in painted pose
where pain was once removed
Shan't be streams leave Autumn's door
the silver shines alone
a touch, too sweet for memory
in dreams you are at home
Discretion sits still satin falls
a whisper gently heeds her call
__________________________________
There's a ghost in my bones
and she's lonely
she paints flowers on the walls in the daytime
and bullet wounds on my skin at night
When the scars collapse and new skin returns
she pretends the silence doesn't roar
when the radio skips a beat
to songs she won't remember
She doesn't know her own skin anymore
and I don't know mine
together we make strange shadows
on the wall and call it life
My own silence is deafening
I can't find a reason to scream
the gun just a metaphor to the way
I was before I had a reason to smile
I'm always waiting for the end of days
I'm always looking for a reason to run
There's a ghost in my bones
and she's lonely
but I'm the one holding the gun.
or if there is something in our eye
they stream our sudden feelings,
but it's okay, we all do cry
We hold them close,
or set them free
when times are good,
or misery
To float, to fly, to wonder high
in Paris by the Louvre
in arms, in eyes, in painted pose
where pain was once removed
Shan't be streams leave Autumn's door
the silver shines alone
a touch, too sweet for memory
in dreams you are at home
Discretion sits still satin falls
a whisper gently heeds her call
__________________________________
There's a ghost in my bones
and she's lonely
she paints flowers on the walls in the daytime
and bullet wounds on my skin at night
When the scars collapse and new skin returns
she pretends the silence doesn't roar
when the radio skips a beat
to songs she won't remember
She doesn't know her own skin anymore
and I don't know mine
together we make strange shadows
on the wall and call it life
My own silence is deafening
I can't find a reason to scream
the gun just a metaphor to the way
I was before I had a reason to smile
I'm always waiting for the end of days
I'm always looking for a reason to run
There's a ghost in my bones
and she's lonely
but I'm the one holding the gun.