Walk a thousand times to the same place
And you still might never see the owner's face.
Every time he just waits behind the last close door
That you never walk through, just stare at the floor.
What is all this clanging and singing for?
Is this just another self-gratifying bore?
What are you looking for anyway, in this house?
You might look like a lion but squeak like a mouse.
Come on, take that step off the cliff,
Play that new, frightening, pulsating riff.
Open your eyes to a love that you came to find,
Turn your gaze on that which gives sight to the blind.
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