Well, I'm leaning on
What's left of what has been
And still to come
And the present tense
Eludes all sense
And haunts this native son
There's a truth or two or three or four
Depends on where you stand
You can be a multitude of things
My lovely ampersand
We're not a house of strangers anymore
No cobweb takes a chance upon our door
There's a hope I horde
And hold onto
It comforts like a song
That you'll find the spark
That guides you through the dark
Before I'm gone
We're not a house of strangers anymore
With chosen crest of black upon our door
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
