Pressure

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William Hale

5:30

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We had tried to work it out
Applied pressure to the front of your head
You control an empty shell
But I control where I lay in my bed

If I choose to close my eyes 
I may never see this world again
Would it come as a surprise 
If I woke someplace that I've never been

It's getting harder to trust in the things that I know
I am a lier, and I have to be ready to show 
What I am made for but what am I made for
And what has been made for me
I am the front door I am the water
A wave in the vast open sea
So call me your brother, call me your father
I'm a holy and spiritual man 
A man of delusion, a man of religion
Who will break on a shore of soft sand 

And each grain of sand is its own little cell
And each nucleus will burn with its electrical smell
Which way is up? It is so hard to tell
I can't tell

But I've tried to work this out
Held my hands as tight as fists in the air
And I could fill your empty shell
But it would not get me anywhere

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