Growing tired of bedside resolve

Public display of depression

Something's got to give now

Something's going to break down



I grow tired of writing songs

Where people listen

But never hear what's really going on now

Tell me what's so wrong now



Clap your hands, all ye children

There's a clamor in your whispering

Clap your hands tonight

Hear what the silence screams

Clap your hands

Clap your hands now, all ye children

Clap your hands, all ye children

There's a clamor in your whispering tonight



For most who live and breathe,

Hell is never knowing who they are now

Tell me who you are now



Finally safe from the outside

Trapped in what you know

Are you safe from yourself?

Can you escape all by yourself?



Clap your hands, all ye children

There's a clamor in your whispering

Clap your hands tonight

Hear what the silence screams

Clap your hands

Clap your hands now, all ye children

Clap your hands, all ye children

There's a clamor in your whispering tonight

Clap your hands

Clap your hands now, all ye children

Clap your hands

There's a clamor in your whispering tonight



It's not the lies that you sing,

But what the silence will scream.

It's not the lies that you sing,

But what the silence will scream.

It's not the lies that you sing,

But what the silence will scream.



Clap your hands, all ye children

There's a clamor in your whispering

Clap your hands tonight

Hear what the silence will scream

Clap your hands

Clap your hands now, all ye children

Clap your hands, all ye children

There's a clamor in your whispering tonight