调：E major
Verse 1
talking solemn prose
There I see myself,
and oh I know he knows
peering out the blinds
Tell her that I'm sorry, tell her I'm still kind
it was a thought just overgrown
There she sees me now,
oh she knows me how
peeking out the blinds
Tell her that I'm sorry,
tell her I'm still kind
his face is screwed up agony
I'm screaming so it's clear to me,
A bitter wine refusal
for trying to be kind
The saints parade their visions,
the sinner's left to die
the answers on our mind,
won't you please consider, it's
The questions we must find
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