His eyes were like windows,
opened to the darkness of the night;
his arms a door once opened,
but I've locked the key inside.
I'm pounding on walls trying to get through,
but with a body like a brick wall, it's no use.

There's a fire burning but it's spilling out of the chimney,
and as the snow falls around me I can feel my heart freeze;
it's starting to stab and wound me.
I'm painting pictures on foggy windows
of memories not yet made,
but even so, they fade.

I'm knocking on the door,
I'm ringing the bell,
but this home seems to have become
a place I'm not welcome anymore.

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