Lit Up

There's a story on the backroom door
It's marked, carved, and sanctified in sweet denial
Protecting what's behind

A muffled first dance love song
Cries to occupy all that's wrong
But it's a cold heart beating in and out of time

I heard them sing, "Lay low; lay low"
I heard them sing

There are the places
There are the places that would - drive you full
They taste of living
They taste of living till you're - till you're through

Oh how we forget
Or how we forget like sun spilling out - from our еyes
We want and want
We want and want thеn all done - to turn surprised

There was something you wanted to say
There's something we used to sing
We were free

There's a story preaching in your head
It tells you where your freedom lies
Out, beyond, away, across next time

Reasons slip into the bliss
Of burning nights in unconsciousness
Revolts of angels keeping you for a while

There are the places
There are the places that would - drive you full
They taste of living
They taste of living till you're - till you're through

There was something you wanted to say
There was something we used to sing
There's something you wanted to say...
You are free?

You're lit up in your head
The memories mutineers
Well it feels good to be free, sure it does