I hang the pictures
When the man between the figures
Isn't home
There's nothing to say
But deliver the scene
Where I see you every night
I dream of your photograph
Swallowed by pure regret
I visit your photograph
A journey the same as before
A small home where sleeping hounds lie
Victims of the ghosts of your sins baptised
There's nothing to say
But deliver the scene
Where I see you every night
I dream of your photograph
Swallowed by pure regret
I visit your photograph
A journey the same as before
Crawling in circles
Breathless before you
Crawling in circles
Until it's it's time to crawl home