Lisa Cerbone He Took The Silence
I was staggering oddly towards anyone. Anyone holding up the sun. He saw how well I wasn't standing there on my hands. Through their great, untrustworthy lands. In the darkness, he took the silence away. In the darkness, he took the silence away. And the tears that blaze down a face. Fear that they'd start, and won't go away. I was curled up for nothing on the bathroom floor. He waited, he waited and stayed and stayed true. In the darkness, he took the silence away. In the darkness, he took the silence away. In his eyes, he tells me how it goes. How sorrow has a language, and there is too much yet to know. And how there's strange joy in the slightest, no matter how hard, how hard, how hard... it is to get past these broken doors. And, in the darkness, he took the silence away. He took the silence away.
