My frustration is a product of biotic routine, And so is the faith that puts you down on your knees. You can sail that ship the width of oceans and sounds
My mind's at home here in this cold November breeze. This frost, it stabs my skin, and grays the branches of these trees. My breath is a ghost as it wafts
I'm brave, or at least I used to be But another day is gone and you've gone away And that's ok, I've learned to live with my mistakes I keep them safely
The biting, blowing cold Cuts directly to my soul My circulation slows And I feel old Until the spring I'll be hating everything Without a song to sing
This demeanor is the sum of foolish dreams And all the smiles for which I've fallen This crooked grin is for the eyes that trod my heart And for the many
This winter's filled with thoughts of you All the same reminders; all the heartache we've been through I shudder when I think back to those days It was
We've walked too far to fall to our knees. If there's an answer, it's lost on me. Is freedom so abstract that it can't be found without keeping someone
It seems so clinical; the things we do are minimal. Half-heart smiles and token wit, But we're not saying shit. Our eyes bat back and forth, we're physical
These streets are paved with bloody asphalt And all roads lead to the capital The people stand there holding their hands out And they're begging for more
When it's light we are defined. Everything exposed but what we hide. Now is the time to come unfurled. Swallow down your pride and let it go. There will
I'm drunk on the vestiges of a dying scene What's left: impressions of what it really means. To be a part of something bigger than the system that unjustly
: I'll greet the sun today, barely standing on my own two feet. But if there's a truth to find: I will find it. I've seen saints become abandonment
: Congratulations are in order You made it out alive You don't have to have a conscience I'll be far out of your sight Counting all the things I have
: My faith is only here in jest. Inside: the same spiraling stupor. I can't help but think that this all will end with me letting myself down. I get
: These streets are paved with bloody asphalt And all roads lead to the capital The people stand there holding their hands out And they're begging for
: Lift my head and see it through Because I don?t know what else to do Everything else just goes wrong All I can do is write these songs (And this song
: You left me like a bird leaves it's pedestrian soul Stranded on a desert island You just flew away And I'm stagnant as the sky; a backdrop for your
: You're too young to let this city destroy you And you're too old to be afraid. Don't believe the hype; we've so much left to live for. You're much