I'd like to believe   in one thing that   you'd say to me   would you like to leave   when i try to talk it all    it turns out to be      turn on the stove    in the little tiny room   that our friend calls a home      my head fills with heat   from the knife in your hand    to mine      I'd like to understand   what you think about why    it seems so bad      it's only escape    from everything i know i'm weak   i know that i'm sad      turn on the stove   in the tiny little room   that our friend calls a home      my head fills with heat   from the knife in your hand   to mine      sand