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• Artiste: Pockets Filled With Matches
• Titre: Wall Of Hands
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I will turn my back on this wall of hands So I don't have to see All the names and all of the faces That make up unanimity I would prefer for these betrayals To take place in anonymity In every crowd on every street I'll pick you out I'll be thinking well, I guess you had to But did you have to? Can I condone those who raise their hands to send me away? But how can I condemn when I would have done just the same? Can I call this cowardice or just self-preservation? If only you could tell me.. How do you distinguish between the wind and the whisper? It's not the sound, it's the intent And when the rain just won't stop and I am soaked to my skin My clothes disintegrating then I will And when the humiliation has just got too much and I can't stand up straight Then I will then I will then I will Can I condone those who raise their hands to send me away? But how can I condemn when I would have done just the same? Can I call this cowardice or just self-preservation? If only you could tell me.. Can I break this wall of hands down to its component parts? Scratch my name off the list if you if you wouldn't mind I would do most anything for you to say you're sorry But that just will not happen.. that just is not going to happen.