1,986,392 Pages


This song is by Chris Connelly and appears on the album Phenobarb Bambalam (1992).

I stare from behind the mirror
I still can't feel a thing
This house has been dead for years
It doesn't mean anything

The walls are soaked with indifference
The rooms occuppied with despair
The bed rocks in its own ignorance
The windows just open and stare

A climate of unhappy families
All covered with dirt and with flies
Breeding a hole for our secrets
So we can watch them all grow into lies

At the same time the room seems to mock you
Parading your shadow of doubt
They pray for our silent audience

And beg for forgiveness without
I dreamed for years before now
I'd end up in a place like this
Too scared in a room I refuse to call home

I knew it would end like this
I walk with a weight on my shoulders
Of the promises that I broke
To get rid of my guilty secrets

Throw them down that same hole
This house is a house of failure
Of bitterness and remorse
Of illness betrayal and torture

It means nothing of course
In the corner I swear I can hear
The ghost of you screaming at me
Questioning misplaced virtues

And my infidelity
And even though I did not doubt you
No one said that you had to be right
The lights in the air that surround me

Could turn my day into night
The company of the corpse here beside me
Will haunt me forever like your screams
Like everything else never leaves me alone
From my waking house into my dreams

External links