Can somebody come find the love lines on my palm?
Can they bend my ten fingers, then drag me along?
Can somebody unearth what I can't promise is there?
Is it me who has to search? Always me who has to bear?
I open up my chest every time somebody asks me
In the morning, on a mountain, in a basement or a taxi
I open up my chest for some translation, for a peek in
But that language is long dead, and I fear no one's left to speak it
That language is long dead, and I fear no one's left to speak it
I'd rather be a muse than completely overcome
And I make you dance for me so you'll never think to run
It's my fault I get bored before you're close to done
Though you're walking out the door, we both know I'm the guilty one
I open up my chest every time somebody asks me
In the morning, on a mountain, in a basement or a taxi
I open up my chest for some translation, for a peek in
But that language is long dead, and I fear no one's left to speak it
That language is long dead, and I fear no one's left to speak it
Da-da-da-da-da
Da-da-da-da
So I waste what isn't mine
And I mourn what never was
And I tell myself I'm waiting
For the right reason to come
I waste what little time
We're given 'til it's gone
And I pencil-draw the lines
On my wide and waiting home
I open up my chest every time somebody asks me
In the morning, on a mountain, in a basement or a taxi
I open up my chest for some translation, for a peek in
But that language is long dead, and I fear no one's left
I open up my chest every time somebody asks me
In the morning, on a mountain, in a basement or a taxi
I open up my chest for some translation, for a peek in
But that language is long dead, and I fear no one's left to speak it
That language is long dead, and I fear no one's left
