You couldn’t tell me, with that mentality
What it was about me, that schoolyard shove in the chest to incite
And in the lines between the tiles in the porcelain room, I wrote why

And I couldn’t tell you, couldn’t muster the words to tell you
What it was that made me stop, and not confront you
in the lines between the tiles in the porcelain room, I wrote why

We should’ve been saying something, not pushin and shoving
Saying something, so simple it’s tragic, saying something

He couldn’t tell his eldest, let alone his youngest
What it was about his own, childhood family madness
in the lines between the years I can picture him writing why

The shelter in silence becomes a mutual, mental violence
That won’t let go, where’s the common sense
in the lines between the years you wind up writing why

When should be saying something, not pushin and shoving
Saying something, from little steps comes the magic, saying something

Tell me we’ll be speaking soon

And he couldn’t tell her, even though his divine was her
What it was that mystified, and also his fear amplified,
And he let too much time, he let too much time pass them by

But one day he found her, at the end of his rope he tethered, 
He finally opened his mouth, Began to understand her
And in the lines between the tiles, he could begin to erase why

Cause he was saying something, not pushing and shoving, 
saying something, so simple it’s magic, saying something…

Tell me we’ll be speaking soon…