returning empty handed

Speak of the years of growing weary..

I'll sing this to the end

And watch the waves crash over me



Speak of the years of growing weary

I'll sing this to the end

And watch the waves crash over me



I feel much too overcome

with enough time

To turn it all around

In a picture perfect scenery

I've become a stick figure illustration

My eyes roll back and focus, on what's at hand

I cant still stand if you leave the hand to praise me

I'll take this on my own

I'll take this on my own

I'll take this on