Whenever you get home, I'm still lonely
But it didn't used to always be that way
And maybe it's because you don't kiss me anymore
When you walk through the door I don't know what to say
And I know I should be praying that it changes
That you want me in the way you did before
But lately, I find beauty in the silence
'Cause talking always ends in slamming doors
We may be lying in the same bed
But we're lying to ourselves
And if we even try to pretend
That our hearts ain't somewhere else
All of the little things once meant the most
But now they feel so small
Next to the pictures and the paintings down the hall
Is the writing on the wall
And we both shyed away from confrontation
But is that love or obligation in your eyes
If holding me came without hesitiation
We'd get us back instead of barely gettting by
We may be lying in the same bed
But we're lying to ourselves
If we even try to pretend that our hearts ain't somewhere else
All of the little things once meant the most
But now they feel so small
Next to the pictures and the paintings down the hall
Is the writing on the wall
We may by lying in the same bed
But we can't lie to ourselves
So don't even try to pretend
That your heart ain't somewhere else
We may be lying in the same bed
But we're lying to ourselves
If we even try to pretend
That out hearts ain't somewhere else
All of the little things once meant the most
But now they feel so small
Next to the pictures and the paintings down the hall
Is the writing on the wall
Is the writing on the wall