In this frame
In this figure
This space within my head
There's a man who lies in anger
like a body in a bed
But I've been steering clear of myself
The ragged times and the emptiness I cannot fill
I've got distance on my breath
A restless spirit in a bottle
I've got scars under my boots
Where my soul steps on the throttle
And I'm sick from constant motion
With a lifetime of tomorrows in front of me
Most everybody knows this halo
This little ring of hell
All the questions we won't ask ourselves
And the answers we won't tell
But in the margins of our lives
The long bookends of each day
Dreams fly like ravens
As we see what we can't say
Denial is a sickness
People get it like religion
A beacon in our bodies
That we fly toward like pigeons
A curtain that we draw
To keep us hidden from the people we were yesterday
I've got distance on my breath
A restless spirit in a bottle
I've got scars under my boots
Where my soul steps on the throttle
And I'm sick from constant motion
With a lifetime of tomorrows in front of me
And I've been living in a country
Where everybody's split in two
A state of limbo that divides us
What we feel from what we do
Where silence is a virtue
Emotion is a child that's seen but never heard
Never heard
I wear my temper like a sheath
A spiral shell upon a snail
And the winds that twist within me
Fill my body like a sail
I'm colder than a pistol
And I'm triggered by the fugitives inside of me
Most everybody knows this halo
This little ring of hell
All the questions we won't ask ourselves
And the answers we won't tell
But in the margins of our lives
The long bookends of each day
Dreams fly like ravens
As we see what we can't say