All around the room in a whirl   You saw dancers catch fire when you were still a girl   In a town that’s built on the whispers of tattlers   But yet to inspire a single a single dot in the Commonwealth atlas      God only knows how these things ever start   An empty plate in the place of a heart   That finds it’s way on a trail of crumbs   And stains windowpanes on the prints of thumbs      So go take rest   Pull the blankets up tightly with your knees to your chest   A far off sound   But to such delicate ears it must seem like there’s a zoo burning down      A nagging ache there must be some place better   Searched through every library book down to the last letter   Even Thornfield Manor sounds enticing   With echoes down the hall and on the walls the heads of bison      So go take rest   Pull the blankets up tightly with your knees to your chest   A schoolyard song   And no one can blame you for getting it so horribly wrong      The old saddlers breath that always smells of leather   The café sign letters been faded forever   Irrelevant facts from the history tester   Snowed under the chalk dust of last semester      Can’t you see   What it’s done to your mother, what it’s done to me?   All their words   Will shatter into pieces when I lock you in my arms again