One hundred thousand cars have passed this house The celebration starts with laughter
Can it be that we're not clean? The days have turned to haze Tell me how we should have lied to keep away this space To keep from snowing in Keep from lingering Keep our worlds apart
When it come to letting go Let the quicksand flow When I write it in the sand There is something wrong
Days that are over Will not continue to last If you try to construct the past
I leave the heat on to leave a trace of all the things the air was filled with
All the things I never knew and all the words I know Now they all come out too late for you to realize Satisfy my luck This director's cut doesn't spare an inch
I have never seen this place and no surrounding walls As the party turns to dust they all understand
Days that are over Will not continue to last If you try to construct the past