Hotel hobbies padding dawns hollow corridors
A typewriter cackles out a stream of memories

Drying out a conscience, evicting a nightmare
Opening the doors for the dreams to come home

We live out lives in private shells
Ignore our senses and fool ourselves
To thinking that out there theres someone else cares
Someone to answer all our prayers, all our prayers...

Are we too far gone, are we so irresponsible
Have we lost our b____, or do we just not care
Were terminal cases that keep talking medicine
Pretending the end isnt quite that near
We make futile gestures, act to the cameras
With our made up faces and pr smiles
And when the angel comes down, down to deliver us
Well find out that after all, were only men of straw

But everything is still the same
Passing the time passing the blame
We carry on in the same old way
Well find out we left it too late one day to say what we meant to say

Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the water
Those problems seem to arise the ones you never really thought of
The feeling you get is similar to something like drowning
Out of your mind, youre out of your depth, you should have taken soundings
Clutching at straws, were clutching at straws, were clutching at straws

And if you ever come across us dont give us your sympathy
You can buy us a drink and just shake our hands
And youll recognise by the reflection in our eyes that deep down inside were all one and the same

Were clutching at straws
Were still drowning
Clutching at straws
Were still drowning, yeah clutching at straws
Im still drowning
Were clutching at straws
Im still drowning

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