We can clear these halls
but our echos will still be heard
we can change the facts
but still contract these feelings
so I'll sing a song of hope
just to realize that,

I found a reason to stop running
done with all the lying
and just recourse all the things, that
we still think, and maybe
this could work

So we're here and now
our futures bleak and drowning
in our dreams of what we thought
we could be

So let it out
and let me know
that your bleeding your tears through the phone
and it hurts me to say this
but I think
we're better off on our own

The ballpoint pen scratches through the skin
and leaves the shame
of what we've become, cause

We're just killing ourselves
just breaking ourselves down
into the machines that we are
and to never know what lies within
is a beauty that we both seek and are
trying to escape.
Last edited by sourmilk80 at Jan 26, 2008,