The better things are left unsaid.
No voices speaking in rhetoric.
The eyes deceive your mind.
They tell you satellites are stars.

Digging holes instead of moving mountains.
Listening for whispers in a world thats always shouting.
We both knew it was the end before the end was said.
It's dead and buried.
We're dead and buried.

The better things are left unsaid.
No voices speaking in rhetoric.

What is love?
A constant reminder?
A fire that starts and never burns out?
If what they say is true, the better things are left unsaid.