This paint has been tasting of lead  & their chips will fall as they may,  but it's not just my finish that is peeling,  & it is not alone fleeing these walls.    Well sooner of later this cold  it's gonna break  so our hands will be warm again,  but all I want is not to need you now.  And sooner or later this code  it's gonna break  & our words will be heard again,  but all I want are vows of silence now.    This turpentine chaser's got kick  & the rag that it's soaked in is rich.  The fumes aide the pace of my cleaning  & as soon as I'm done I am gone.    The frightening facts  we've been facing our backs  for so long now  are begging for eyes  to bear witness to lies  & indifference.    Now we're saying aloud  the things we've declared in our silence.  The new coats of paint will not reaquaint  broken hearts to broken homes.