| Can prepare you for this kinda pain
|
| It’s like a month of overcast Mondays
|
| And you’re caught in the thunder and the rain
|
| Pretty soon the cost of everyone you’ve lost
|
| Will be equal to the people you’ve gained
|
| And we’re all, wasting time down a one big line
|
| Between the welcome sign and the grave
|
| You wake up just right to see the morning light
|
| But it hits you like the crashing of the waves
|
| You call God but his telephones off
|
| Saying why am I lost
|
| Why do you take as many people as you save
|
| You feel weak
|
| So you try to eat a meal
|
| Try your best feel
|
| Something other than your mother slippin' away
|
| And we’re all, wasting time down a one big line
|
| Between the welcome sign and the grave
|
| So you, drive out to your friends house
|
| Try to pour your heart out
|
| Hoping one of them can ease the pain
|
| And you, cry tears and you laugh and you drink some beers
|
| And then after it all you gotta face up to that grief again
|
| Then you, lay your head down
|
| Try to pretend now
|
| She never died and nothing’s changed
|
| We’re all, wasting time down a one big line
|
| Between the welcome sign and the grave
|
| And we’re all, wasting time down a one big line
|
| Between the welcome sign and the grave
|
| And we’re all, wasting time down a one big line
|
| Between the welcome sign and the grave
|
| Lewis be brave |