What lies ahead of me, all good things, go bad, Strip naked energy, that this used to have, I painted you by numbers, then watched the colour dry, Hated how easy I could rear you apart and hardly try.
Artist inside of me, don't you turn to dust, You must of lied to me, to made me believe I was good enough, Got your head in a pin-pricked sheet, all the holes like a starry street, Safe and sound in a world you made, not a soul in the world could save,
When I feel home, all the colours change, like an opal stone, couldn't feel further from the same, And in your force field, all the seasons change, like an opal stone, there's always someone else to blame.