Painted room
and your memories surround
one fades out
one left standing in the field
common sense, its not what you make it
though my feelings are falling
still no one is calling my name
If the world was a portrait
would you mold it with your hands
if my eyes could see direction
or the wisdom in your plans
And so sorry that I should offend you
by resisting your control
but don't take me for granted
cause right now my heart is cold
its cold...
so look at me, staring back at you
and all the things, that I regret from you
common sense, no its not what you make it
and though that picture is falling
still no one is calling my name
cause it feels so right...