Texty: Silverchair. Staging a Traffic Jam.

A burning bridge staging a traffic jam
Intention stained upon expression
Eyes the sky's darkest clouds
Constipated mountains of condensation

At the start there was innocence
Breaks my heart doesn't make no sense
Just start again that's the recompense
Just learning to fly

In a sense it's innocence
It's my only defense on a guilt trip
And being held hostage, I'll wrap my heart around you
I'll wrap my arms around you falling down the stairs

See this chair, see this empty room
There's my heart, there's my open wound
'Cause the end always comes too soon
Just try to get by