White Walls

Staring in the face of the do-what-I-can
What's the matter with turning around?
One black eye in the back of my head
And another one facing the ground
Maybe it's

All in my fingertips
On the white walls making that sound
Or am I coming to grips with the lost
But not with the found?

Carriaging across all the making-a-man
If anything could bring you down.
Gone from a coal to a diamond day
Now when's it coming back around?
Maybe it's

All in my fingertips
On the white walls making that sound
Or am I coming to grips with the lost
But not with found?



Credits
Writer(s): Brian Martin Kirk
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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