Hands in line
Arms close, to my side
I'm fighting tides, of an ocean's undertows
And I figure that I might not make it,
And I'm waking empty
But I'm seldom speaking
And the words retreat yeah they breathing histories into these stories untold
And my arms unfold.
My hands are high
And I'm holding out, but holding up
And I figure that I, figure that I just might make it
And I'm waking empty, but seldom sleeping
And the words repeat,a ,breathing histories into stories untold
And I--- unfold.
Say now aQuality is what you see now, in the corner of your eye, so
And a Don't be surprised, if you hear the bells ring
As they fall from the sky
They sound bong, bong, bong, bong, ba da, yeah ee yeah a yeah
Ah, bong, bong bong bong, ba da, ee yeah ee yeah yeh
*scat*
And I'm holding up (this time) because I figure that I just make it.
And I'm waking empty, but seldom sleeping
And the words repeat-a breathing histories into stories untold
And I--- unfold.
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