I try all night to play a pretty note.
Room Full Of Mirrors, that's more of a mental disarrangement. This says something about broken glass used to be all in my brain.
Fall mountains, just don't fall on me.
The one that rambles for a million miles, yes, I walk down this road searching for your love.
Well, obviously religion must come from inside.
So you want to be married, oh baby, trying to put me on a chain, ain't that some shame? You must be losing your weak little mind.