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