Eggshells

She slees with the windows openyet she's still locked safe insideand to block out the sounds of the city's commotionshe turns her fan up on highyea she lives just far enough away from hometo see the whole sceneand down the street the kids throw sticks and stonesand end up on the the TV screenyea they throw their sticks and stonesand end up on the TV screenand she used to walk on these gracefullybut now they crunch beneath her feetI guess she must be changinthere's just no way to keep it neatand her father still barks like a soldierreturning from victorybut now eh's much olderand that bark isn't as scary as it used to beyea she watches his self tortureno one left to abuse but himselfbut still her memory scorches herand she struggles to love herselfher memory scorches herand she struggles to love herselfand she used to walk on these gracefullybut now they crunch beneath her feetand I guess she must be changinshe never was to good at stayin' in her seatand this town grows hungry and restlesshungry for what I ain't surebut they're sweepin' the streets of the trash and the homelessand raisin' the rentand breakin' the poorand I used to walk on these gracefullybut now they crunch beneath my feetand I guess I must be changinthere's just no way to keep it neatI used to walk on these gracefullyI guess I must be changin'...