The Scar

I'd like to sneak around your house
When everyone's asleep
Tiptoe across the door-room mat
That used to welcome me
Then gently shut the door
To see a brand-new Christmas tree
And the silence pounds like a kettle drum
And a chill runs through me

But does she ever miss me?
I still hear her singing
Just like an orchestra, just like a painting
With velvet brushes and wooden framing
She's a familiar Monet that's worth renaming
The scar

I choked up the dirt, completely hurt
I ran straight through them all
Then pushed aside what's left of pride
And trembled through the hall
And there stands a door you'd seen before
When all you knew you was down
And your perfume breath brought peaceful death
On sleepy silver gowns

But does she ever miss me?
I still hear her singing
Just like an orchestra, just like a painting
With velvet brushes and wooden framing
She's a familiar Monet that's worth renaming
The scar

Yeah, to wake is such a dreaded thing
To sleep is such a hole
I eat without your company
I drink till I unfold
And now hear the end of everything
Just thrown onto the ground
But October fell and broke my shell
And all I knew was down

But does she ever miss me? (Hold my hand)
I still hear her singing. (Hold my soul)
Just like an orchestra, (Angels sing I'm staving), just like a painting.
With velvet brushes (My ears swell cold),
And wooden framing (Hold my soul),
She's a familiar Monet (Angels call her), that's worth renaming,
the scar (the scar).

Hold my hand (so they crush them in),
Hold my soul.
Angels sing I'm staving (the scar).
My ears swell cold (so they crush them in),
Hold my soul.
Angels call her the scar.