Wouldn't it be nice if we were close

But pretending that we were could kill the ghost

Maybe I cooperate

But I'm done

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 wait against the current in

Our old bay

Shimmering underneath the sea

Sentimental echoes spark my memory

Hard to make believe nothing means anything to me

Rehashing the wounded patriarch

On a tattered throne with a broken heart

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, around

We're almost emptied out

Sentimental echoes, cynical with doubt

Hard to make believe nothing means anything to me