Stories They Tell

Cracks on the floor, lines in your face
Marking the time in this beat up place
Hours and days, scratches and scars
Old towns, broken down cars
What is left behind is just an empty shell
What lives on are the stories they tell

Cradled in ash, impressions in stone
Locked up in ice, blankets of snow
Amber and bones, writing on the walls
Build it up, still everything falls
What is left behind is just an empty shell
What lives on are the stories they tell

Amber and bones, writing on the walls
Build it up, everything falls
What is left behind is just the crack in the bell
What lives on are the stories they tell
What lives on are the stories they tell

 

(Owen Temple, Clay McClinton)