If it’s hard then it must be better,
so your letter said inbetween the lines.
It doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger,
you’re no longer feeling so alive.

Oh, you’re building a wall
you’re building it all around your heart.
Oh, you’re digging a moat,
keeping remote, filling it with sharks.

If you’re lonely you must be growing,
if you’re flowing backwards up this hill.
When you make my decision for me,
will you warn me just before the kill?

Oh, you’re building a plane,
trying to stay sane and logical.
Oh, you’re in this place,
trying to face the impossible.

And I am writing a song
about how, about how you’re wrong.
And I am building a fence
to the tune of how you never make sense.

It’s alright to be in love.
It’s just a figment of your imagination.
And true love doesn’t really exist.
It’s lifelong movement to incarceration,
It’s alright to be in love.
It’s just a thing you feel until it’s faded.
But you will bind its cord around your wrist,
and love the way its strands are braided.

If it’s easy, then it’s mistaken:
nothing taken, nothing given in.
It doesn’t kill you, it makes you harder:
and the martyr twists with a broken grin.

Oh, you’re building a wall,
you’re building it all around your heart.
Oh, you’re digging a hole
all round your soul and filling it with sharks.

You can have a piece of me to keep,
if the peace would only help me sleep.
You can have a piece of me to hold,
to steady your hands as you grow old.

Tags: songs