One hundred thousand cars have passed this house

The celebration starts with laughter



Can it be that we're not clean?

The days have turned to haze

Tell me how we should have lied

to keep away this space

To keep from snowing in

Keep from lingering

Keep our worlds apart



When it come to letting go

Let the quicksand flow

When I write it in the sand

There is something wrong



Days that are over

Will not continue to last

If you try to construct the past



I leave the heat on to leave a trace

of all the things the air was filled with



All the things I never knew and all the words I know

Now they all come out too late for you to realize

Satisfy my luck

This director's cut

doesn't spare an inch



I have never seen this place and no surrounding walls

As the party turns to dust they all understand



Days that are over

Will not continue to last

If you try to construct the past




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