It stands in front of me, a thought with no escape. You never heard it through the hole in the wall.
I'm holding on to what we know. I'm supposed to care.
It's going to rain sometimes. It's going to pour sometimes away. It's always do or die with everything you say.
I feel something pulling on my arm. I feel so alone amused with my own secret.
It changes everything, a voice without a face. You can't explain it from the things that you saw.
I'm holding on to what we know. I'm supposed to care.