This isn’t Ivy, this is some kind of ghost town, and every ghost seems to have an opinion about the way it’s been kept up. If I hear that crazy old lady in the spectacles bitch at me one more time about her damn broken windows, I won’t even pretend to feed her. I didn’t come all this way to be a tinker to the undead, and it’s a waste of good fried noodles regardless.
living in your heart
you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart
its no dream house we live in
the walls of your heart are tilting
sometimes its too dark for seeing
maybe this whole heart is broken
and when the water drips in
could be the roof is leaking
could be tears you cant fence in
maybe this whole heart is broken
you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart
and whem the sun keeps shining
through falling good intentions
theres things that we never mention
maybe this whole heart is broken
you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart
its hard to sleep
in the rain and the heat
but there you are beside me
in this house of dreaming
it seems like
your heart is still beating
you know its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart
oh its hard
living in your heart
living in your heart