Cause there I a house made of black stone,
And it sits at the end of the road.
I�paint it red and it�forgotten.

Some say. That I�disappear
That I�disappear.
That I�disappear.

This isn�automatic.
This is impossible.
We all are far from tragic.
We are like statues of.

This isn�automatic.
This is impossible.
We all are far from tragic.
We are like statues of.

It�hard t ostand when it�all in your head.
Find that black house paint it red.
ItæŠ?hard to feel when you抳e been through this much.
Wanna talk, wanna touch.
It�hard to run when you can�find your feet.
And I don�want your world on me.

Cause on the inside. Everything�white,
And I�loose myself in it�light.
I�close the door and get forgotten. Some say.
We are like statues of stone.

This isn�automatic.
This is impossible.
We all are far from tragic.
We are like statues of.

This isn�automatic.
This is impossible.
We all are far from tragic.
We are like statues of.

This isn�automatic.
This is impossible.
We all are far from tragic.
We are like statues of.

Statues of stone.
Statues of stone.