| Dry lips, nothing can satisfy this bitter taste of denial | |
| Of breathing a life that isn't yours | |
| But where the souvenir tastes fine | |
| Swallow a pride you call your own | |
| And fight the thought that beauty knows | |
| That your shell is hollow and the rest should follow | |
| Just stay away from the noise | |
| Stay away from the noise | |
| Avoiding the light that burns your eyes | |
| Playing this comedy you despise | |
| Untouched, but covered with your lies | |
| Safe in a drawer where the souvenir tastes fine | |
| Swallow your pride, you can call it your own | |
| If you stay away from the fire | |
| Stay away from the fire | |
| Please tell me something that I don't already know | |
| To the sound of the violin, the sliding bow on an open wound | |
| Please tell me something that I don't already know | |
| I'll tell you a story nobody ever wished telling you | |
| Please tell me something that I don't already know | |
| I could wish you peace or love or whatever's pleasing you | |
| If there is something that you should already know | |
| We're caught in the whirl and all we have left is | |
| Noise |
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