Art Of Conversation

We're strained, left at harbor
The more prepared, the more absurd
There's someplace that eludes us
And wages war in more than words
Well there's someplace 'cause I have a map
As the crow flies, I draw a line
A crying shame in letters
A solemn landscape of lines on a page
Wells run dry, lions go untamed
We both know where to go to bury the names
We both know where to go to carry the weight

Nothing is truly bloodless, even if you say it so… even if you say it so
Throwing out the babies with the bathwater
To sons and daughters
The lost art of conversation
Has taken a leave of absence I believe

Wells run dry, lions go untamed
We both know where to go to bury the names
We both know where to go to carry the weight