This house was built on a firm Foundation But the walls are quickly crumbling. Blinded brothers break their faces, All the while mumbling, "I tried to reach out and it nearly killed me." Self loathing, self pleasure, self pity, Self reliance is the way we're told. Everything but self control. All the while shaking our fists at King Jehoshaphat, Who's trying his hardest to save us from uncertain doom. Never knowing he nearly took Salvation from you. And you loathe parenthood, with the state it's at, You raise them as best you know, making sure they clean their rooms, All the while fearing they might become you. This house was built on a firm Foundation, But water pours in through the ceiling. And we drink it in like wine, And we're waiting for a feeling. It's poisoned and it's filthy, But we say "what no one knows won't kill me." So we give what we have and take what we can get, Hoping for that sensation that we never will forget. But we just grow callous and hard and numb, So we drink deeper, we plunge further. How will we remove this jagged knife? What are we, what will we, what have we become? Broken men gather, and you can hear a light murmer: This really isn't life. And so we dream the dream, Comatose as we may seem, And the walls will fall down if we should wake. Some are in a strange, inexplicable state, Wondering what it would take, Considering all that's at stake, Wondering if we should wake.