Cause there I a house made of black stone,
And it sits at the end of the road.
Id paint it red and its forgotten.
Some say. That Id disappear
That Id disappear.
That Id disappear.
This isnt automatic.
This is impossible.
We all are far from tragic.
We are like statues of.
This isnt automatic.
This is impossible.
We all are far from tragic.
We are like statues of.
Its hard t ostand when its all in your head.
Find that black house paint it red.
Its hard to feel when youve been through this much.
Wanna talk, wanna touch.
Its hard to run when you cant find your feet.
And I dont want your world on me.
Cause on the inside. Everythings white,
And Id loose myself in its light.
Id close the door and get forgotten. Some say.
We are like statues of stone.
This isnt automatic.
This is impossible.
We all are far from tragic.
We are like statues of.
This isnt automatic.
This is impossible.
We all are far from tragic.
We are like statues of.
This isnt automatic.
This is impossible.
We all are far from tragic.
We are like statues of.
Statues of stone.
Statues of stone.
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