In a dismal room where the walls wont talk to themselves we sleep waiting for an alarm to tear us away

Let me capture this image on a tattered piece of flipchart and help you pick the paint out of your hair when my brush runs astray.

And let me block the sun from your eyes and turn you to watch the sky in the west in the morning,

Let me turn this blue alarm off, so we can sleep through the day

the dirge in the church they're singing for us.

The painting couldn't capture so the paint chips reached out and clung to whatever they could grasp that was living

and vital out of a fear of being eternally hollow.

Show me your heart and I'll say how its 12 blocks west of mine,

And I'll show you the thoughts that I wrote when I was 2 hours behind your time.

I'll bring the board games and you'll bring a candle to follow,

Cause youth and games are imminent just like the days of tomorrow.