This House Alive - Cursive

There are voices in the attic

Wispy whispers past the cabinets

Filled with tawny photographs

I am stolid, I am steadfast

Where there’s panic, lingers relapse

Oh, no;

those breakdown days are done

This house alive

I can hear the floorboards breathe

Creak, creak

Are these angels come to take me?

If so, I’ll wave my white flag willingly

I have shed my snake-skinned past

Clustered flies hinder the windows

For every angel there’s a devil

Oh no, make these voices go away

I was a God-fearing boy

Sure, I stumbled more than once

But so did his begotten son

An orphan, thrown out to the wolves

Not prodigal, far worse

I was hustled, I was scorned

Made a criminal…

But I stand here reformed

There are voices in the dead of night

A child screaming, «I am Gemini!»

Oh, what are you, and why?

Are you specter?

Are you spirit?

Am I lucid, am I losing it?

Oh no, this macabre facade

These walls, paper thin