I knelt at the sink,
|
Like a priest or a prince
|
Maybe I'm to be a king
|
And they're waiting for me at Westminster
|
|
And the walls are paper thin
|
I hear the neighbor's arguing
|
Could you lower your voice?
|
I would sail my unborn daughter (maybe)
|
|
We didn't stage a passion play
|
Didn't change our given names
|
Or waltz to our bed
|
Or need to make a sense
|
|
But I see your skin, paler now
|
Than the host in your mouth
|
Where the truth never seems to be
|
|
Now the burning branch never speaks to me
|
It whispers like
|
|
I don't wanna be your vessel any more
|
I don't wanna be your vessel any more
|
These are my words, this is my mouth
|
I don't wanna be your vessel now
|
|
And I may not see the future
|
But I see its lonely architect
|
At the door of my house
|
I don't wanna be your vessel any more
|
I don't wanna be a vessel of your doubt
|
|
Truly I never dreamt
|
Of all the dumb accoutrement
|
I would want for myself
|
For the shelf
|
|
I laid it all at your feet
|
On your neck and your cheek
|
But the burning branch wouldn't speak to me
|
|
I don't wanna be your vessel any more
|
I don't wanna be your vessel any more
|
These are my rules, this is my house
|
I don't wanna be your vessel now
|
|
And I may not see the future
|
But I see its lonely architect
|
At the foot of my bed
|
I don't wanna be your vessel any more
|
Didn't wanna be your vessel anyway
|
|
-----------------
|
Vessel
|
| Dry The River |
