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Two ways to choose, |
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On a razor's edge, |
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Remain behind, |
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Go straight ahead. |
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Room full of people, room for just one, |
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If I can't break out now, the time just won't come. |
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Watch me unwind. |
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Rejected and depressed. |
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Everything I am I hate. |
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Confused, directionless. |
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Knowing this is all we had. |
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Existing on best terms we can until |
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Death takes us from our own fucking hands. |
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But nothing can touch us now. |
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I tell myself that I know I don't want to be the man who tells stories |
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Of the all things that were ripped from my hands before I truly grasped them and I know if we shutdown in stages then let this be the last time |
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That I ever fucking gave a shit, with my head in my hands, I never meant anything more than this, |
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This is the story of permanence. |
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This is the story of unchained momentum |
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This is the story of everything, we ever wanted |
