The Scar

I'd like to sneak around your house

When everyone's asleep

Tiptoe across the door-room mat

That used to welcome me

Then gently shut the door

To see a brand-new Christmas tree

And the silence pounds like a kettle drum

And a chill runs through me

But does she ever miss me?

I still hear her singing

Just like an orchestra, just like a painting

With velvet brushes and wooden framing

She's a familiar Monet that's worth renaming

The scar

I choked up the dirt, completely hurt

I ran straight through them all

Then pushed aside what's left of pride

And trembled through the hall

And there stands a door you'd seen before

When all you knew you was down

And your perfume breath brought peaceful death

On sleepy silver gowns

But does she ever miss me?

I still hear her singing

Just like an orchestra, just like a painting

With velvet brushes and wooden framing

She's a familiar Monet that's worth renaming

The scar

Yeah, to wake is such a dreaded thing

To sleep is such a hole

I eat without your company

I drink till I unfold

And now hear the end of everything

Just thrown onto the ground

But October fell and broke my shell

And all I knew was down

But does she ever miss me? (Hold my hand)

I still hear her singing. (Hold my soul)

Just like an orchestra, (Angels sing I'm staving), just like a painting.

With velvet brushes (My ears swell cold),

And wooden framing (Hold my soul),

She's a familiar Monet (Angels call her), that's worth renaming,

the scar (the scar).

Hold my hand (so they crush them in),

Hold my soul.

Angels sing I'm staving (the scar).

My ears swell cold (so they crush them in),

Hold my soul.

Angels call her the scar.