To the silence your voice is the cure,
Chained in by infallible allure.
You step into my head through watching eyes,
Demolishing time's cobwebbed lies,
And baby I find myself down on my knees,
Trying anyway I can to appease.

Why's the second hand playing with my heartbeat?
Stalling on your name?
I'm talking to the walls but the silence is the same.
Why's the light avoiding contemplation?
Taking all the blame?
I'm breathing out the memories but the air sets them
aflame.

In the emptiness I can't define,
I find a thought my heart outlines.
My mind dances over every healing bruise,
Finding guilt to shred and hurt to lose,
And baby I find myself down here looking up,
Holding out a second golden cup.

Does the second hand play with your heartbeat?
Does it skip upon my name?
Are you talking to the window asking if the view's the
same?
Considering contemplation?
Avoiding all the blame?
You can't hide behind your eyes because I still set them
aflame.

And baby I linger on symmetry,
Still can't illustrate you and me.