War wages on behind closed doors
It’s in a book, on the bus, or in the midday paper
This is where we find the patient
On his way in search of salvation
But his search is lost in the headlines
With hell at his feet
Heaven dies to save him
Hell at his feet
Heaven dies to save the patient
Just come to real life
This is healthy
This is real life
This is healthy
He makes his bed upon the ordinary
Afraid to venture far from home
But his subtle thoughts are building monuments
To his eternity
Where years of work are on the line
The stakes are unfamiliar
He’d rather sit, sit, sit at home
To put his mind at ease
He has the time of his life
Modern life
Hides war well
Modern life
Hides war well
We are the patient
This is our story
This is our struggle
And our glory
We’re all hidden by real life
We’re under the surface
We’re all hidden by real life

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS