If life is a bottle that's been kicked across the floor
At least I know where I can find you
The unspilt remains of hope with which we came
In such a shallow pool
Some things are going to change
Why protest?
They're not going to stay the same
Why protest?
Criss-cross in the sand
Places in the future
Where I can touch the past...
Making ditches, digging graves for the fear
Trying to bury it alive
To bury it
I don't want to be sick
With this love
With this love
I don't want to be sick
With this love
With this love