I'd like to believe In one thing that you say to me Would you like to leave? When i try to talk at all, it all just turns out to be Turn on the stove In the little tiny rooms that our friends call a home My head fills with heat From the knife in your hand to mine I'd like to understand What you think about, why it seems so bad It's only escape From everything i know i'm weak, i know that i'm sad Turn on the stove In the little tiny rooms that our friends call a home My head fills with heat From the knife in your hand to my sand