The voice from the window
The room is filled with people,
And furniture and photographs taken by those people.
And there is a window in the corner.
Everyone could hear a voice coming from there,
But everyone's acting like they can't listen.
I'm standing right in front of the window.
I wonder who's outside,
I wonder who's voice it is,
I wonder if I could see.
There's a fight going on between that voice and the voices inside
Like the voice is telling something its own way,
And the voices hear it their own way.
It's a fight between the lies and the only truth.
The voice seems to be going down,
It seems to grow more feeble as I go near the window.
I still wonder who's voice it is,
I still wonder if I could see.