The ghosts of this house
Never haunt me in my sleep
They only haunt you
And I hear them gossip every night
About the way I write my songs
And the method of how your mouth moves
There's an alarm that chimes along
In my toes and in your heart
And we are light bulbs for this room
We can lie to our bosses
To the ones who held you down
And gave you living proof
But you run out of excuses
You run out of excuses
They play air guitar without the song
And drink champagne with a straw
They sleep and dream in a bathtub
And the luxury is sickening
I'm questioning reality
It scares me
They mock us on our routine lives
And how we drive into the night
With a radio and a cup of coffee
And maybe I'll finally understand
The stress that I hold in the palm of my hand
Is nothing but fallacy
And you run out of excuses
You run out of excuses
At night the forest grows with noise
The ghosts I kept will be destroyed
They'll leave me in the house tonight
And I'll sleep so silent next to you
I won't wake up until it's time to choose
The reason I took flight to get here
It was hard enough to sing
Now it's even harder to say
That maybe I'm a little bit older
And ready for your aching hands
To push my back to understand
That we were finally wrong
And you run out of excuses
You run out of excuses