I found you in that waiting place, outside the front door under the over hang, pacing back and forth
with arms behind your back, with an expression that says, “this is a matter of fact.” Funeral attire on an
old worked man, with the pain of hellos and goodbye waves in his hands, with lines that flow and flow
out, and a sword coming straight straight out of his mouth. I've seen you coming now for quite some
times, let's talk of life and death, talk of a real fine line, and I'm just an explosion on the skyline,
beautiful now, but justified, I will die. I've heard it before that you're a very patient man, with setiment
gathering where you stand, and knocks and knocks and knocks, and inside these walls, all we ever do is
talk. And I see you, but you're not coming for me. Does the line you don't cross ensure the certainty,
that I'll die in this box, or does it mean that I'll be free. And I see you, you're so much better for me, but
does my life depend on solely what I see, well your voice is the faintest sound, can't it ever just be
loud? And if I can't let you in, will you feel alot like that little kid who lost his mom at the age of six,
and at that point even he could open child proof lids. To pour out blame to pour out disfunction, to
pour out blame, and I am not a very patient man, pain is measured in milligrams. He stands at the door
and knocks and knocks. Vocals/Kayla, Acoustic Guitar/Ethan, Bass/Jeremy, Piano/Kayla, Drums/AJ.
Lyrics written by Ethan. Song written by Greyfield.
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