Walk out the door,
Your eyes fill with tears,
Or stay and confront me,
And face all your fears,
Linger in silence,
Neither distant or near,
It's not going to change a thing.
Lay here beside me,
And question my faith,
Or hold me with all,
The love we have made,
Or hide them away,
It's not going to change a thing.
The picture is painted,
The colours are bold,
One for each season,
Of life I suppose.
It no longer matters,
The story is told,
It's not going to change a thing.
Lie here and talk,
Of whatever you want,
Or dare to compare,
All the things we've done wrong
What care the world,
When we're all dead and gone,
It's not going to change a thing.
The picture is painted,
The colours are bold,
One for each season,
Of life I suppose.
It no longer matters,
The story is told,
It's not going to change a thing.
The picture is painted,
The colours are bold,
One for each season,
Of life I suppose,
It no longer matters,
The story is told,
It's not going to change a thing.
It's not going to change one thing.