Like stealing sound from parade or loss,
hands tied up when enough just wasn't enough.
From the top of our lungs,
I cave-in tuned to the bottom of our guts.
It's ok, the ringing left me empty.
Don't say that I'm living slowly.
I wish my days away. When night comes,
I'm on the brink of thirst exhaustion and opportunity.
My hands, they tremble softly,
but my habits take that away.
Get lost in the conversations,
my weeks are leading to the endless disarray.
Steady the hands and knees,
while our hearts beat out of our chest.
We're wide open now.
Sing the songs that you wanted to sing.
Sing them loud and out of key.
We're wide open now.
You set the pace for my skin and bones, I'm ragged and drunk.
It's alright.
I save the youth, but I don't make shit,
and I can carry badlands across my chest.
It's alright.