When the words have finally run out
I shall place these hands upon this mouth
For talking made a distant life
So I'd rather be quiet
I'd rather be quiet
Even if it isn't torture
I would rather drown than be drowning
And if it isn't honest, then it isn't worth the breath
I'll hold it instead
I'll hold it instead
I'll spend the next year in bed if I can't get my way
They might say I've given in
But I've given up and there's a difference
And when the words I lost are found
I'll move these hands away and speak them out
I'll spend the next year in bed if I can't get my way