|
Meaning is sometimes hard to spot |
|
It begins with the flickering of cigarettes |
|
In the darkness of a dorm room |
|
Somewhere in the suffocated mid-west |
|
But if this is real, then I was mistaken |
|
And if there is truth, then why can't we find it? |
|
But beauty comes to those who have been waiting |
|
For something that is bigger than themselves |
|
But this is the sound of the hopeless kids |
|
As they scream from the basements |
|
Of the houses of their parents and... |
|
This is the sound of the hopeless ones |
|
As they stare down at their books |
|
And realize they have been lied to |
|
But if this is real, then I was mistaken |
|
If the vision's gone, then I was not aware |
|
Consistency like that which I have craved |
|
Is that people change so unexpectedly |
|
And realization finds you in a drunken airport |
|
Some planes depart and others never arrived |
|
So with this in mind, I don't plan on waiting |
|
If it's time to leave and break these old ties |
|
Without something more the vision is fading |
|
But until it's gone the pain will make us try |
|
But this is the hope I have been searching for |
|
As the wings catch the sunlight of the cold Nebraska skyline |
|
And this is the dream I am dying in |
|
As I wake to find tomorrow |
|
Be content without perfection |
|
But if this is real then I was mistaken |
|
If the vision is gone then I was not aware |
