The Crowded Alone

Running down the stairs And it hurts my head The paintings on the wall Don't know who I am yet Tryna find myself In the things that I feel Feel the tears run down my face And I know it's not real In this house there are drawings on the wall They say nothing at all Floorboards creaking as I walk to their beat While I'm sleeping They try to get ahold of me All these voices They bounce back and forth But when you're by yourself They are hard to ignore In this house there are echos in the halls But you hear nothing at all