the art of time pours in your glass
the sound of it reminds you of your past and how nothing ever changes
the clocks inside your head will strike midnight every night
you stare at walls and paint with your memory
and you won't ever make it, cause nothing here ever changes
you wipe the dirt from off your dress
and smile politely at your guests, and hold your breath that no one saw you on your knees
your diary's a requiem, of all the things come and gone
of times and boys and places you will never find
and you won't ever make it, cause nothing ever changes
and you won't ever make it, cause nothing here ever changes
don't rely on past experience, you'll find that nothing changes over time
and I can't look you in the eye, oh tess
you can hide what's left of your heart in your mind, and make believe a better time
cause nothing ever changes, nothing ever changes...
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