David Bazan Follow

The walls of our house are thinner than paper
The roof is a vapor that hangs in the air
And our wedding bed is made from the same stuff our bodies are made of

If no heavy breath blew up these lungs
While dirt and wet spit hung a ghost in the air
Well, we're still here

While kids and their friends make war by the fire
Their old men retire to drink and do drugs
You long for the truth
We argue about it
But most of us doubt it can ever be found

Is a ship without a captain just as doomed as a ship without a crew?
'Cause of all my friends who try to tell the truth
There are still a faithful few
Who insist they won't know what to do

If no heavy breath blew up these lungs
While dirt and wet spit hung a ghost in the air
Well, we're still here
Well, we're still here