The Light

Where would he go for fun in this town?

How would he sit and bookend days?

No, I don't need the poetry

More than a moment could upset the need

Console for the love, but the love belongs to me

The light, the light, the light, the light

The light, the light, the light, the light that finds me

The light, the light, the light, the light

The light, the light, the light, the light that finds me

Mother I feel the crowd's on the turn

Took out the windows, moved the stairs

And I don't need the comedy

Holding the door to my own tragedy

Take blame for the hurt but the hurt belongs to me

The light, the light, the light, the light

The light, the light, the light, the light that finds me

The light, the light, the light, the light

The light, the light, the light, the light that finds me

Oh

Oh

Oh

You must die a little

You must exercise

You must die a little

Bury the keys and get to work

You must die a little

You must exercise

You must die a little

You must hate yourself

You must die a little

You must die a little

You must die a little

Bury the keys and get to work