We get down from the highway where I have been sent to keep you from resting.
You're the one in the burning house.
We get down to the basement where the music they are making, accompanies the chasing.
We're the ones in the burning house.
Not a fire, a light that surrounds the sort of heat when something's begun.
Before this I felt with no one.
You're the one in the burning house.
We get down to the basement where the music they are making, accompanies the chasing.
We're the ones in the burning house.
Not a fire, a light that surrounds the sort of heat when something's begun.
Before this I felt with no one.
We get down to a sunrise, when all the air has passed from your lungs into mine.
And life hangs like a cloud in the sky.
We get up and get angry when the light comes early but misses us entirely.
Can we stretch the nights of our lives into a shade that softens the light?
As the moon is ate by the sun.
Before this I saw with no one.
If I could, I'd make up a world as foggy as I feel, and tender as a nerve.
The glass of our heads, upon which we stood, and said if I could I'd break these doubting words in your head
I would break this doubting world from our head.
If I could, I would tear this love from no one.
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