| The birds are up when he collapses through the door
|
| Spilling out in constellations on the floor
|
| Soaked in liquor, he’s soft as bread
|
| And everything that’s left of him to beckon to his bed
|
| He is a nocturnal, always alone
|
| But you’ll speak in secret codes that he has never known
|
| In this world, but not of it
|
| So he watches from above it
|
| A visitor here, this is not home
|
| I am the spectator
|
| I can see the world passing by from here
|
| I am just a child to a man
|
| Back to the dust where I began
|
| I was never even here at all
|
| I am the spectator
|
| I am the spectator
|
| His eyes, like two cats, scratching in his head
|
| Begging him for sleep, starving for a bed
|
| But sleep, it never comes, so he ticks the time away
|
| Hour after hour, hear them play their bells go
|
| Chime chime chime, ticking ticking time
|
| Chime chime chime, ticking ticking time
|
| I am the spectator
|
| I can see the world passing by from here
|
| I am just a child to a man
|
| Back to the dust where I began
|
| I was never even here at all
|
| I am the spectator
|
| I am the spectator
|
| I am the spectator
|
| And the bells go
|
| Chime chime chime, ticking ticking time
|
| Chime chime chime, ticking ticking time
|
| Chime chime chime, ticking ticking time
|
| Chime chime chime, ticking ticking time
|
| I am the spectator
|
| I can see the world passing by from here
|
| I am just a child to a man
|
| Back to the dust where I began
|
| I was never even here at all
|
| I am the spectator
|
| I am the spectator
|
| I am the spectator |