At the center of the world
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There's a statue of a girl.
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She is standing near a well
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With a bucket bare and dry.
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I went and looked her in the eyes
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And she turned me into sand.
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This clumsy form that I despise
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It scattered easy in her hand.
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And came to rest upon a beach,
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With a million others there.
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We sat and waited for the sea
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To stretch out so that we could disappear
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Into the endlessness of blue,
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Into the horror of the truth.
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You see, we are far less than we knew.
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Yeah, we are far less than we knew
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But we knew what we could taste.
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Girls found honey to drench our hands.
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Men cut marble to mark our graves.
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Said we'll need something to remind us of
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All the sweetness that has passed through us
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(fresh sangria and lemon tea).
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The priests dressed children for a choir
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(white-robed small voices praise Him)
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But found no joy in what was sung.
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The funeral had begun
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In the middle of the day
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When you drive home to your place
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From that job that makes you sleep
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Back to the thoughts that keep you awake
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Long after night has come to claim
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Any light that still remains
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In the corner of the frame
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That you put around her face.
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Two pills just weren't enough.
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The alarm clock's going off
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But you're not waking up.
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This isn't happening, happening, happening,
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Happening, happening. It is.
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-----------------
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The Center Of The World
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| Bright Eyes |
