i dig 'til my shovel tells a secret,

swear to the earth that i will keep it,

brush off the dirt

and let my change of heart occur.



sold soon after the appraisal,

the hammer struck the auction table

louder than anything i've ever heard.



fault lines tremble underneath my glass house.

but I put it out of my mind

long enough to call it courage

to live without a lifeline.

i bend the definition

of faith to exonerate my blind eye.

"'til the sirens sound, i'm safe.�



meanwhile, my family's taking shelter.

the sparks send the fire down the wire,

a countdown begins,

until the dynamite gives in.



the echo, as wide as the equator,

travels through a world of built up anger-

too late to pull itself together now.



fault lines tremble underneath our glass house.

but i put it out of my mind

long enough to call it courage

to live without a lifeline.

i bend the definition

of faith to exonerate my blind eye.

"'til the sirens sound, i'm safe.�



there was an earthquake.

there was an avalanche of change.

we were so afraid,

we cried ourselves a hurricane.

there were floods,

tidal waves over us,

so we folded our hands and prayed.

like a domino,

these wildfires grow and grow

until a brand new world takes shape.



fault lines tremble underneath our glass house.

but i put it out of my mind

long enough to call it courage

to live without a lifeline.

i bend the definition

of faith to exonerate my blind eye.

"'til the sirens sound, i'm safe.�