| if i could wipe the grime away
|
| i’d leave the rest just the same
|
| i’d find a way to skew what’s left
|
| to make it seem it’s for the best
|
| could never, could never see
|
| (the seams that needed stitching)
|
| could never, could never see
|
| (there's something that’s been missing)
|
| we march in step, walk straight in line
|
| we march in step, our hands are tied
|
| was there a sieve they could trickle through
|
| and out the other side they’d be someone new
|
| was there a sieve they could trickle through
|
| they could drip and drip, few by few
|
| and i’ve been wishing it ever since
|
| that i could be the one convinced
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| that it wouldn’t just repeat itself
|
| don’t want their lot in life
|
| how do you expect us not to blame ourselves
|
| was there nothing else, was there nothing else
|
| that it wouldn’t just repeat itself
|
| don’t want their lot in life
|
| how do you expect us not to blame ourselves
|
| was there nothing else, was there nothing else
|
| and all the echoes in my head
|
| they keep me from believing again
|
| they ripple back and forth
|
| preventing me from ever wanting more
|
| a broken home splintered in four that day
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| i spoke alone when i thought that we’d be okay |