What, then, do I do to make you something
When all I take from you is my own reflection?
And when the day has all but forgotten me
How, then, do I hold you with my blunted hands?

I have made an end; take me home again
And I'll leave my shoes at your door
Show me another room, somewhere
I can call my own;
And though you have built a wall around you
I am standing on the inside
I am standing on the inside
I am standing on the inside, on the inside

Now here I face the long-fading road again
And the familiar fall of my old shadows
But if I'm to show you
Something, anything that's true
I can draw from only what I know;

And I'm starting on the inside
I’m starting on the inside
I’m starting on the inside, on the inside, on the inside

There’s not life enough under the in-between
There’s not life enough under the in-between