Eyes

What's the point of being honest
If you're only gonna feel low
It's the joy of broken promises from people that you don't know

Everyday a famous lesson
To the man who wrote the histories
Is the single one responsible
For writing all the mysteries

You take your time writing letters
To some people in a phone book
But all the pages have been turned
they're not even worth a second look

The eyes that were closed
Could see underneath the layers
Of the photoshop
Because the photo had been browned by the years on a mountain top.

I want
To run away
To a place where I can spend my days
Listening
To the walls

What's the point of telling stories
If nobody ever hears you
When all your heroes are gone
And all your fears are an ice cube

And I don't
Remember the last time
That I had taken a look
At the world as it fell down

I want
To run away
To a place where I can spend my days
Listening
To the walls