Maybe I could rearrange the art that hangs upon these walls, but maybe I could not.
The masterpiece that lies within this room, has yet to leave these holes, and break through every door.
But I lie here on my back, I stare into the white.
Light.
A black of color winds these eyes, with silence comes the sound.
Maybe I could call you on the phone, and tell you all my thoughts.
But maybe I should not.
These corridors and empty feathered beds, are lacking what I'd hoped, in pictures in my head.
But I lie here on my back, I stare into the white.
Light.
A black of color winds these eyes, with silence comes the sound.
But maybe I should not.
The masterpiece that lies within this room, has yet to leave these doors, and break through every door.
But maybe I should call you on the phone, and tell you all my thoughts.


A black of color winds these eyes, with silence comes the sound.
I make way for solitude or maybe I need you
the ruby hues that outline all my words are chopped and humming chords I've never used before
but I lie here on my back I stare into the past
the memories burn my mind
with dreaming comes the flight
yeah with dreaming comes
the flight yeah with dreaming comes

the flight