Soft as the sound of rain on your windowsill
I was lost when you gathered me in
Home is the sort of place where the ground is still
And I am sewn right back into my skin
But that's me backed into a corner
With my crooked head and everything undone
Calm is the quiet face of a slow collapse
And I am drawn into desolation
Truth doesn't stretch as far as the tendril wraps
But it moves like a cancer within
That's me stopped under a streetlight
With the cadence of the blades across the glass
And that's me turning into a stranger
I've given up, I'm giving in, I'll throw it all away
Ooh, ooh, ooh
