Low roof, bare bulb, broken fan White dust settling on my hands Another bolt slides into place Another inch cut from my space I turn my shoulder to the wall And feel the mortar start to fall No room to move So I move the walls Lean into the pressure Till the whole thing falls No room to move So I move the walls A thin crack climbs across the paint A strip of daylight finds my face The hinges strain, the screws pull free Cold air cuts between my teeth I hear the street beyond the dust One more shove, the door gives up No room to move So I move the walls Lean into the pressure Till the whole thing falls No room to move So I move the walls No room to move So I move the walls Lean into the pressure Till the whole thing falls Now I've got room Now I've got room to move
