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Hands in Line |
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Arms close to my side |
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I'm fighting tides |
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Of an ocean's undertow |
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And I figure that I might not make it |
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I'm taking empty but seldom speaking |
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And the words retreat |
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Yeah, they breath in histories |
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Still at ease |
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And the story's untold |
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And my arms unfold |
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My hands are high |
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And I'm holding on, I'm holding out |
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And I figure that I |
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Figure that I just might make it |
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And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping |
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And the words repeat breathing histories |
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Into stories untold but I unfold |
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See now quality is what you see now |
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In the corner of your eye |
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And don't be surprised |
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If you hear the bells ring |
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As they form from the sky |
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They sound bong, bong, bong, bong, ba da |
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Yea yea bong, bong, bong,bong ba da yea, yea |
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And I'm always holding on |
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And I'm already holding out |
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Said I'm holding out your side |
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And I'm holding out this time |
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Cause I figure that I, and I figure that I |
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Just might make it and I'm |
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Waking empty but seldom sleeping |
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And the words repeat breathin histories untold |
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But I unfold |
