We built this house on broken stones
The way we were the way we know is under us
And i've seen better sights,
Inside that broken box we have in all our homes

What's going wrong with all our lives?
What happiness has been deprived from all our,
Hopes of felicity in surviving,
Away from the outside world that's thriving on,
This lifeless mode of being,
And I'm far from agreeing that we're,

Better off,
Being blind to what we know is coming on

What makes us better forms of life?
We were better metaphors for neon lights
Since we're just,
Lonely shades of bright,
Collecting company with the sights

And I've seen better sights,
Inside our hopeless thoughts that someday we'll find home,
But for now we're all alone

I am a worthless piece of art,
To the amass of broken hearts,
We've allowed them to impart,
On our white canvas torn apart,
But their just searching for a meaning through spare parts