Asylums for abandoned dreams
And aborted revolutions
The echoes of a dying mind
It's only the faces that change

And you walk again
Along that thin white line
A poem for the dead
A refuge for the weak

Staring through a photograph
Do you ever wonder how you're still holding on?
This is what you've become
And you're no longer in control

Pictures of white fences on the cover of a housewives' magazine
There is so much left to lose
Her portrait is still hanging on the wall

From the bottom of an empty glass your own reflection points and laughs
There is so much left to lose
And you're no longer in control

Staring through a photograph
Do you ever wonder how you're still holding on?
This is what you've become
And you're no longer in control