My Glass House — текст песни (Swingin` Utters)

While I sit alone in this room I`ve got crates full of sorrow
Even more filled with shadows That i fish out and ridicule when i`m felling lonely.

I`m lacking sense, but bound in a very specific direction It`s phonomenal and unprecedented It`s a chip of the old block and a step up the new ladder.

Mr. Scribe, I write to you pen and penchant aimed to pour over a fool left with no more rhymes I`m poeticlly franchised.

I`m in charge for the day in terminal wanderlust I`ve excited my worst thoughts exorcised what was lost am i a bad seed sprouting up or am i not?

I`m sure what sad is But listless i`m not my lists are never ending and my emotions aren`t store-bought and tears, they either decieve or endure me I`m your little golden nugget collecting dust Bored with my own stale and directed thoughts In a place where so much life and loves abound It`s amazing how little tempts me from my glass house.