Brett Lock
Perfect peace is born and then is torn away
as the tourniquet is tightened around my soul.
And though I’m missing you, I could never say
without some strange display on my face that I love you.
But what’s the difference if I do?
What’s the difference if I do?
There’s nothing more to say at the end of the day.
As I go and lay in darkness I am alone.
And though I’m missing you, I can never hide
that feeling inside of my gut that I love you.
But what’s the difference if I do?
What’s the difference if I do?
We watch the sadness die as it is worn away,
as we make a play for despair or some control.
And though feelings change you can never tell
if it’s going well or if something still remains,
or if you’re insane to love the way you do.
To love the way you do.
Love the way you do.
Love the way you do.
What’s the difference if I do?