The walls are talking and the only person who can hear me is nearly gone. I stand by your bedside, on the edge of words That i can't say, for the fear that i might fall. Maybe i'm afraid that the pictures that i paint, Won't capture the beauty of you. And the last thing that you hear is the silence in your ears, As i sink beneath the weight of it all. I could call you my lover, call you a beast, Call you the island, where faith doesn't reach. Call you a lion, call you a man, You're the line that ties me to things. I don't understand. Your smile as you wither, is as pretty as the picture, You wouldn't sell to the lady next door. You tell me music and art, it doesn't have a price, It's for the heart, i should give it away, Use it for the freedom of us all. I could call you my lover, call you a beast, Call you the island, where faith doesn't reach. Call you a lion, call you a man, You're the line that ties me to things. I don't understand.