when you find your castle on the hill
|
with the bars on the windows
|
will you burn the bridge behind you
|
will you ever come out and see the sun again
|
or will you hide
|
and now how long has it been
|
since you've seen the light
|
|
make your way on the stairs
|
to the top of your tower
|
stone cold floors
|
hardwood doors
|
lead you to your room of plastic flowers
|
they still look the same
|
drenched in water
|
it comforts you to think that they're alive
|
|
it could have been easier than this
|
if you threw it all away
|
what would you miss
|
it could have been too much of a chance to take
|
the silence in your head would have to break
|
your grip is slipping faster
|
looks like you'll have to face yourself after all
|
|
step outside the shadows of your cage
|
strangled truth
|
stolen youth
|
is written on every line of every page
|
it's your story
|
do you want it back
|
you have to decide if it is worth it
|
swim across the swamp to the other side
|
run until you're out of breath
|
and when you look back they'll be nothing left
|
but a memory fading quickly
|
|
it could have been easier than this
|
if you threw it all away
|
what would you miss
|
it could have been too much of a chance to take
|
the silence in your head would have to break
|
your grip is slipping faster
|
looks like you'll have to face yourself after all
|
|
it could have been easier than this
|
if you threw it all away
|
what would you miss
|
it could have been too much of a chance to take
|
the silence in your head would have to break
|
your grip is slipping faster
|
looks like you'll have to face yourself
|
after all
|
|
-----------------
|
Eighties
|
| Lifehouse |
