Quiet کے بول

Oh you've got your reasons Clouded from me I touch only surface Crested debris But I've seen the refinery from 20,000ft Ignite the sky and burn your paper wings Silly thing Still you live like you're dying Just to breathe Quiet, things are turning alabaster Quiet, we don't want the house to burn Caress the porch in whispered tones We don't have long to be alone With easter island dead ahead It makes good sense To break our bread in reverie To our need So we live like we're dying just to breathe Quiet, things are turning alabaster Quiet, we don't want the house to burn And we live like we're dying And we live like we're dying