| Growing tired of bedside resolve
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| Public display of depression
|
| Something’s got to give now
|
| Something’s going to break down
|
| I grow tired of writing songs
|
| Where people listen
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| But never hear what’s really going on now
|
| Tell me what’s so wrong now
|
| Clap your hands, all ye children
|
| There’s a clamor in your whispering
|
| Clap your hands tonight
|
| Hear what the silence screams
|
| Clap your hands
|
| Clap your hands now, all ye children
|
| Clap your hands, all ye children
|
| There’s a clamor in your whispering tonight
|
| For most who live and breathe,
|
| Hell is never knowing who they are now
|
| Tell me who you are now
|
| Finally safe from the outside
|
| Trapped in what you know
|
| Are you safe from yourself?
|
| Can you escape all by yourself?
|
| Clap your hands, all ye children
|
| There’s a clamor in your whispering
|
| Clap your hands tonight
|
| Hear what the silence screams
|
| Clap your hands
|
| Clap your hands now, all ye children
|
| Clap your hands, all ye children
|
| There’s a clamor in your whispering tonight
|
| Clap your hands
|
| Clap your hands now, all ye children
|
| Clap your hands
|
| There’s a clamor in your whispering tonight
|
| It’s not the lies that you sing,
|
| But what the silence will scream.
|
| It’s not the lies that you sing,
|
| But what the silence will scream.
|
| It’s not the lies that you sing,
|
| But what the silence will scream.
|
| Clap your hands, all ye children
|
| There’s a clamor in your whispering
|
| Clap your hands tonight
|
| Hear what the silence will scream
|
| Clap your hands
|
| Clap your hands now, all ye children
|
| Clap your hands, all ye children
|
| There’s a clamor in your whispering tonight |