Funeral For A Friend - Building
Shouldering the blame,
walking into frame
like a lighted silhouette.
Against a cotton sheet,
smothering the crease.
Tin can in hand,
waiting for god to come around.
But he never comes around,
he never comes around. Quiet like a mouse,
building up your house,
just to tear it down.
Leaving us the pieces,
do they ever fit?
Tin can in hand,
waiting for god to come around.
But he never comes around,
he never comes around,
he never comes around.
walking into frame
like a lighted silhouette.
Against a cotton sheet,
smothering the crease.
Tin can in hand,
waiting for god to come around.
But he never comes around,
he never comes around. Quiet like a mouse,
building up your house,
just to tear it down.
Leaving us the pieces,
do they ever fit?
Tin can in hand,
waiting for god to come around.
But he never comes around,
he never comes around,
he never comes around.
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