The Writer
You wait for a silenceI wait for a wordLying next to your frameGirl unobservedYou change your positionYou're changing meCasting these shadowsWhere they shouldn't be
We're interruptedBy the heat of the sunTrying to preventWhat's already begunYou're just a bodyI can smell your skinAnd when I feel itYou're wearing thin
But I've got a planWhy don't you be the artistAnd make me out of clay?Why don't you be the writerDecide the words I say?Cause I'd rather pretendI'll still be there at the endOnly it's too hard to askWon't you try to help me?
Sat on your sofaIt's all broken springsThis isn't the place forThose violin stringsI try out a smileAnd I aim it at youYou must have missed itYou always do
But I've got a planWhy don't you be the artistAnd make me out of clay?Why don't you be the writerDecide the words I say?Cause I'd rather pretendI'll still be there at the endOnly it's too hard to askWon't you try to help me?
You waitI waitCasting shadowsInterrupted
You waitI waitCasting shadowsInterrupted
You waitI waitCasting shadows
Why don't you be the artistAnd make me out of clay?Why don't you be the writerDecide the words I say?Cause I'd rather pretendI'll still be there at the endOnly it's too hard to askWon't you try to help me?Won't you try to help me?Won't you try to help me?