This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
If these walls could talk
Or put their story on a page
If the old screen door had only held
All the words that slipped away
If the photographs and letters
Still hung in dusty frames
And the echoes of our fathers?
Struggles still remained
What would they say?
What life could they give to this dying day?
What would they say?
What timeless truths never fade away?
If these walls could speak
And told us all we need to know
If the long cold hearth
Burned again its amber glow
If the mirror in the bedroom
Reflected all we never show
And the whispers of a hundred years
Hid behind the cellar door
What would they know?
What joys and pains have they seen come and go?
What would they know?
What gave them life so many years ago?
Would they warn us of ourselves
And this flesh we can't escape?
Would they tell us of the constant war
And our own helpless estate?
Would they tell us of a living hope
Who offers peace and guides our way?
Or admonish us in wisdom
In a caution that would say
The spoils of this battle build cathedrals of gold
Temples to ourselves and faith in that which we can hold
We bow before our golden calves; we're quick to raise the sword
And drive the nails with our hands and hearts which spilled the blood
Of the Lamb
Of the Man
Of our fathers and our brothers
And our children who we lay in dust
Of our neighbors and strangers
Of our friends and of our enemies
Of everyone we meet
If these walls could talk would they not scream?
Of everything they've seen
Of everything that's been
And everything that's slipped away
Of everything that's lost
Of everything that we've forgotten
And these stains on our hands
That we have tried to wash away
Of our greedy eyes and our lustful cries
Of silences and shame and fear and disbelief
And all the things we hide
Of our earthly pride and our hearts' desires
Of fame and fortune, rhyme and reason
Questions, answers, doubts, and blasphemy
If these walls could talk would they not scream?
Or put their story on a page
If the old screen door had only held
All the words that slipped away
If the photographs and letters
Still hung in dusty frames
And the echoes of our fathers?
Struggles still remained
What would they say?
What life could they give to this dying day?
What would they say?
What timeless truths never fade away?
If these walls could speak
And told us all we need to know
If the long cold hearth
Burned again its amber glow
If the mirror in the bedroom
Reflected all we never show
And the whispers of a hundred years
Hid behind the cellar door
What would they know?
What joys and pains have they seen come and go?
What would they know?
What gave them life so many years ago?
Would they warn us of ourselves
And this flesh we can't escape?
Would they tell us of the constant war
And our own helpless estate?
Would they tell us of a living hope
Who offers peace and guides our way?
Or admonish us in wisdom
In a caution that would say
The spoils of this battle build cathedrals of gold
Temples to ourselves and faith in that which we can hold
We bow before our golden calves; we're quick to raise the sword
And drive the nails with our hands and hearts which spilled the blood
Of the Lamb
Of the Man
Of our fathers and our brothers
And our children who we lay in dust
Of our neighbors and strangers
Of our friends and of our enemies
Of everyone we meet
If these walls could talk would they not scream?
Of everything they've seen
Of everything that's been
And everything that's slipped away
Of everything that's lost
Of everything that we've forgotten
And these stains on our hands
That we have tried to wash away
Of our greedy eyes and our lustful cries
Of silences and shame and fear and disbelief
And all the things we hide
Of our earthly pride and our hearts' desires
Of fame and fortune, rhyme and reason
Questions, answers, doubts, and blasphemy
If these walls could talk would they not scream?
Lyrics submitted by BlueAndStarry
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