This paint has been tasting of lead
& their chips will fall as they may,
But it's not just my finish that is peeling,
& it is not alone fleeing these walls.
Well sooner of later this cold
It's gonna break
& our hands will be warm again,
But all I want is not to need you now.
And sooner or later this cold
It's gonna break
& our words will be heard again,
But all I want are vows of silence now.
This turpentine chaser's got kick
& the rag that it's soaked in is rich.
The fumes aide the pace of my cleaning
& as soon as I'm done I am gone.
The frightening facts
We've been facing our backs
For so long now
Are begging for eyes
To bear witness to lies
& indifference.
Now we're saying aloud
The things we've declared in our silence.
The new coats of paint will not reaquaint
Broken hearts to broken homes.
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