I can see their eyes, and you never will believe it 
 I can hear their cries, but you wouldn't want to hear them 
 I recant my lies, but they never will believe me 
 My conscience will keep on, and the fault is my own. 

 There's calm in these banquet years, so I tend to obsess 
 About youth, before the guilt appeared. But I need to forget. 
 Outside the lamppost sways from their angry hands 
 As I sleep a troubled sleep, a coldness on my feet 
 And it only gets much colder before dawn. 

 I can see their eyes, but you wouldn't want to see them 
 I can hear their cries, but you wouldn't want to hear them 
 I recant my lies, but they never will believe me 
 My conscience is too strong, and my feet [bad word] 

 It's [bad word]  there's calm with no one here, but the stillness is death 
 The Windows on my street start [bad word] alive and breath 
 I can hear them singing what I've done 

 I can see their eyes, but you wouldn't want to see them 
 I can hear their cries, but you wouldn't want to hear them 
 I recant my lies, but they never will believe me 
 My conscience is too strong, I'll be theirs by dawn 

 I can see their eyes, but you wouldn't want to see them 
 I can hear their cries, but you wouldn't want to hear them 
 [bad word] my life, but you wouldn't want to see it 
 My conscience is too strong, and tonight I'll be gone