Testo Ricochet

Wouldn't it be nice if we were close?
Or pretending that we were could kill the ghosts?
Maybe I'd cooperate
But I'm done and that's not breaking news
You cannot turn the volume down as you choose
Somewhere in a house across the sea
Maybe in a distant memory
Now and then you reappear Out of nowhere like some ricochet
Now you wade against the currents in our old bay

Shimmering underneath the sea
Sentimental echoes spike my memory
Hard to make believe nothing means anything to me

Rehashing the wounded patriarch
On a tattered throne, with a broken hear
From a home where you don't earn your stripes
You have to demand your rights
But you'll never win if you try

But in some corridor
Flickers a poor stubborn light I can't put it out or burn it down
I cannot turn this ship around

We're almost emptied out
Sentimental echoes cynical with doubt
Hard to make believe nothing means anything to me