The People in the Houses

...and I'm struggling with my sensitivities.
And I'm still constructing anonymity.
But it keeps on getting harder and harder,
when the people you love keep moving farther and farther.

The people in the town are a-talkin'.
They think we better keep a-walkin'.
But I'm not finished here.
There's no room to distinguish fact from fear.

And she's steppin' on that pedestal.
Trying to keep lookin' cool,
but there's nothin' better than the exact.

And I've got blood on my shoe from kickin' you,
kickin' around this whole damn school,
but I'm tired of bein' tired for you.

I wasn't listenin' for the music cause you said so.
The saddest part of this whole damn thing is
the fact that you never knew anything,
and it makes me happy in some sick, twisted way.

...and the people keep on talkin'.
They think we are a-stalkin'.
They place their napkins on their happy laps,
taking dirt naps, with their baseball caps,
those poor old saps...

...and so we think about our demons,
the ones that are never leavin'.
But we found them in the cellar,
with their bowties lookin' stellar,
and we chase them from the house,
hopin' the neighbors won't be found,
but then there is no dynasty left,
from the happiness that leaves us bereft...

...so the captain is still taking hits,
from the people who are fed up with it,
and we thank him for his services,
and sing a song about nervousness.

Cause God is placed in high ragard.
We placed a marker on His star.
And now He's coming down real hard,
and we're left to wonder where you are.

We keep our heads to the ground.
Ignoring the same old dragged-up sound,
and still, you're nowhere to be found.