God rest his head Sunday afternoon
And the wicked in me is surely the wicked in you
We pray to a ghost that we never met
Time turns for a cure from the scientists for

Madness, madness of the heart
But you knew it, you knew it from the start

And Hawking will tell us no tall tales this spring
Our minds, the chaos that started everything
Maybe it's faith and the sadness takes hold
Sill stars through the window
Will they ever know this

Madness, madness of the heart
But we knew it, we knew it from the start
Madness, a madness of the heart
But you knew it, you knew it from the start

Stare a sleepy smile into a sun beam
There's nothing more than a daydream
Colored stained glass cathedral
Confines a past that won't let you go

God rest your head Sunday afternoon
And the wicked in me is surely coming through
Now pray to a ghost that I've never met
Still searching for some way out of this mess

It's the heart
It's the heart

There is a madness, a madness in the stars
But you knew it, you knew it from the start

Hmm...