Tip of the Tongue

It's useless asking where we'll go Because I don't know I've lost control We're waking up and down we go It's in the walls and in our bones This simple home hides more than shown It's silent banks are taking hold As the swollen ground begins to fold I'm at peace and swallowed whole It keeps me safe, it keeps me old I'll never leave this cobbled road A crooked spire breaks through the clouds That all light up without a sound I stand upon this hallow ground The grave stones turn and take a bow I've washed my soul in an infants dream It's still the same but now it's clean No train of thought, we're humble hosts We don't exist, we're living ghosts Everything we see seems to be stretched Everything you were you will forget There's a 'secret spider' in my mouth It showed itself and climbed right out It looked at me and nodded once Then climbed back in and got this wrong