Well the wind rushes past/ and throws the curtains through the sash/ and reminds you that the nights/ they'll still get cold/ and the stories that your telling/ well they might have served you well/ but tonight you think they might be getting old/ see for every story told/ a little part of you gets sold/ a little piece gets whittled off and falls away/ and I know you think its easier to just keep adding on/ but there might be nothing left to take away/ and it gets hard to keep track/ of the pile you built out back/ when you always have to watch all the other eyes/ and the things that you love best/ well they never let you rest/ and you might just be your clothes you realize/(Chorus)/now the kettle starts a whistling/ from the stove out in the kitchen/ and you get up from the couch to stop the sound/ but your not sure that you want to/ cuz that empty house might haunt you/ and you dream about getting lost at the lost and found/(Chorus)