House of the Dead
(mmmmm-hmm) The ceiling is quiet and still
The clock keeps spinning at will
We watch as the corridors fill,
into the night
Because the house is full of the dead
No room for the words that we said (Yeah) the gloom is
bright Just ghost in the hallway instead
We sit with the things that remain
Like paint strokes washed out by the rain
No reason to speak of the pain,
they all take flight
Because the house is full of the dead
No room for the words that we said (oh yeah)
just ghost in the hallway instead
We sit with the things that remain
Like paint strokes washed out by the rain
No reason to speak of the pain (they all take flight) Because
the house is full of the dead (yeah) (mmmmm)