we lock the hurricane indoors
|
looking for shelter, we deny and ignore
|
afraid that our words bring clouds we talk in code
|
the thunder or cruel perfection covers love
|
and we're cold
|
|
the private storm
|
and our souls are worn from the tears
|
the private storm
|
and it rages on through the years
|
|
no warning the ground pulls out from underneath
|
we tiptoe through air until we see the blood on their teeth
|
|
time doesn't heal, the scars turn into wounds
|
as we walk lightly silent screams in the storm
|
|
-----------------
|
Private Storm
|
Sam Phillips |