I hate how long it takes, I hate how long it takes,
To be at borders with your skin, and let go,
A midnight interchange, I see myself refrain,
Like a body running cold, I crawl back home to your door.

Where the glass is full,
Where the glass is full,
Where the glass is full.

Okay.

Caught your echo in the grass, before the words collapsed,
Down the centre of the plain, where your call rang out.
Tireless sirens in the foreground, push me back straight home to your door.

Where the glass is full,
Where the glass is full,
Where the glass is full.

I hate how long it takes,
I hate the way I break,
When confronted with your call,
When confronted with your call.