Dance Of The Dead Lyrics

I met her outside, she flicked her cigarette
Watched the ashes dance the moment our eyes met
Laughed and said, “You want to know the truth?
I fell in love with a boy who looks just like you.”
I smiled soft, couldn’t even breathe
Said, “Hi, my name’s Matt” She said “Hi, my name’s sleep.”
Why don’t you come inside I can see it in your eyes
You’d do anything not to be alone tonight.
It’s alright, you will soon find
We’re nothing more than clouds, I’m just passing by
The next morning when I woke up alone
I realized I was no longer welcome in her home.

Just because you heart beats doesn’t mean you’re alive
Just because you’re blinded, doesn’t mean you’ve seen the light
I’m sick of swan songs playing through the fog
This dance of the dead has gone on for too long.
Well God turned my way, said, “My son I am afraid.”
The devil grabbed my shoulder told me everything would be okay
After all these years I still don’t know who to believe
Because my meetings with honesty are few and far between
So if heaven won’t have me, I won’t be surprised
Just get onto my high horse and take another ride
To hear the wind talk, feel the trees shake
Watch the water gossip, speaking of all my mistakes
If the earth floods I’ll be the first one at the bottomIntrovert - Dance Of The Dead - http://motolyrics.com/introvert/dance-of-the-dead-lyrics.html

Another sunken ship at the deep end of the bottle
Drain every drop ‘til the room starts spinning
Pull it from my lips when I end up on the ceiling.
Get drunk on the fame, tomorrows not a factor
Life is just a play we’re all mediocre actors
It’s no longer if, it’s a matter of when
When the curtains fall we’ll be in the dark again.
Just because you heart beats doesn’t mean you’re alive
Just because you’re blinded, doesn’t mean you’ve seen the light
I’m sick of swan songs playing through the fog
This dance of the dead has gone on for too long.

I write Braille in the sky, exchange pens for speech
Use the smoke that I exhale as loose leaf.
Now, I’ve run out of breath
Trying to feed the fire inside of my chest.
If my soul is just trapped I hope that its prison is worth honorable mention
because at this point it’s about all the things I have done
I’m in the same box Houdini couldn’t get out of.
Thought I could escape, but now I have to prove it
I dug my own grave and I finally get to use it
So to every false prophet who left half written scriptures
every artist content with the smaller picture
Every poet who left their last piece unfinished
Every romantic who gave up on love. Good riddance.