Live here by the hour,
Past the masquerades.
Though the light is drifting,
It cuts closer by the day.
Sprung up like the towers,
The need to rise again.
What if it was silence…
Would you let it in?
Paint runs down the valleys,
And sets the tone.
And motion plants the seed,
That once felt like home.
Pallor blinds hanging low
For you to cover up.
No streets have since been as real
As the ones you saw.
Find you something to plaque
Your mind about.
Throw yourself down a hole,
For the climb back out.
I'll decorate you a story
And make it last.
Only playing with God
To see the devils dance.
Maybe by the looks
We’re out of touch.
Diving into the oceans of its core.
Maybe by the looks
We’re out of love.
Don’t want to just keep wondering what’s behind that door.
Past the masquerades.
Though the light is drifting,
It cuts closer by the day.
Sprung up like the towers,
The need to rise again.
What if it was silence…
Would you let it in?
Paint runs down the valleys,
And sets the tone.
And motion plants the seed,
That once felt like home.
Pallor blinds hanging low
For you to cover up.
No streets have since been as real
As the ones you saw.
Find you something to plaque
Your mind about.
Throw yourself down a hole,
For the climb back out.
I'll decorate you a story
And make it last.
Only playing with God
To see the devils dance.
Maybe by the looks
We’re out of touch.
Diving into the oceans of its core.
Maybe by the looks
We’re out of love.
Don’t want to just keep wondering what’s behind that door.