Hands Like Houses - I Am

The disconnect
Is welling up,
And good intentions are not enough
Your words are weary,
Their hearts are strained,
And idle vows find the deepest pains
I’m sick, I’m tired
Of hollow hope

Of promises, empty,
Your way with words,
They’re feeding back inside my head,
Oh, the things I could say that won’t change a thing
I am not the same
I won’t feed on fame

You’re one of a thousand voices,
In my head that all just sound the same
If mine never made a difference,
It won’t make the meaning change
You’re one of a thousand voices,
In my head that all just sound the same
If I will make a change,
It’s by my words and not my name

I’m tired, I’m sick
Of misfit beggars
With able tongues and easy outs
I hear you clearer than you hear yourself
Bite down on your blindness, and spit it out
I won’t sink into the sea of grey,
I won’t melt into the choir of angels
I won’t sink into the sea of grey,
A violence of colour
I won’t melt into the choir of angels,
I’ll step up and scream it
I am dissonant!