We're joking, "Oh God, oh God, we've got ourselves to blame for this."
Humming words between our lips, are we still and motionless?
I could never kiss you because you still believed in God,
and your homemade hands were drying out in time to rot.
You built a home but couldn't hold a conversation.
I think your tongue was housing hesitation.
We're breaking everything down into boxes so we can take them with us.
We've tied them shut with bowed excuses that one day we'll get up leave it.
You built a home but couldn't hold a conversation.
I think your tongue was housing hesitation.