There’s a face in the floor that is smiling at me from the knots in the wood
ripped from the tree
Like the books on the shelf that have never been read or the words on the page
that will never be read
This room holds the story of our lives
The light from the window is dazed and confused through the blinds that are
broken and battered and bruised,
And the sofa is worn through and randomly patched on the memories of days where
we both sat,
This room holds the story of our lives.
But hey wont you stay, hey wont you stay, the lord only knows I don’t want you
to go, so please stay.
The dance of the fire is talking to me from the red glowing embers ripped from
the tree,
The paint on the walls has seen better days and the floorboards creak in reassuring ways,
This room holds the story of our lives.
But hey wont you stay, hey wont you stay, the lord only knows I don’t want you
to go, so please stay.
The pictures on the TV are all looking at me from the brown wooden frames
ripped from the tree
The rugs on the floor are faded and frayed and the posters on the wall are all
browned with age,
This room holds the story of our lives
But hey wont you stay, hey wont you stay, the lord only knows I don’t want you
to go, so please stay.