Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Snakes & Ladders, artist - Imminence. Album song Return to Helios, in the genre
Date of issue: 06.05.2013
Record label: We Are Triumphant
Song language: English
Snakes & Ladders |
In this race there’s no keeping pace |
Bare foot under naked skies |
Masks unveil and so does clouds |
Remark, sun stands high |
The price of pursuit will cost your feet |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
You won’t ever climb high enough |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
You won’t ever run fast enough |
Point a finger down righteousness' path |
They will follow you and lift you up |
You shall never walk again |
Exposure lies in the eye of the beholder |
Exposure lies in the eye of the beholder |
We see what we’re presented with |
But are you willing to look a little further? |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
You won’t ever climb high enough |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
You won’t ever run fast enough |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
You won’t ever climb high enough |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
You won’t ever run fast enough |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
We’re closing in, we’re climbing higher and higher |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
We’re closing in, we’re running faster and faster |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
We’re closing in, we’re climbing higher and higher |
Close enough isn’t closing in |
We’re closing in, we’re running faster and faster |
Confine these treacherous undoings. |
We choose what we’re given. |
And I live, |
so I’ll live in these brief unmeasurable intervals called moments. |
But the only thing I get to keep are the sticks and stones. |
Just like memories, |
these will break and crumble in to scraps and splinters in the palms of my |
hands. |
When the hourglass has been crushed I am just a man pouring my own sand |
in the pools I created. |
So I look up, staring wide then sealing my eye lids |
tight, crossing fingers over hands hearing myself screaming to this man on the |
moon. |
It’s too loud, can he even hear my cries? |
I dream of spinning wheels |
marking the late canopies when they should drive me home. |
Don’t fly away again |
little mocking bird, you should sing for me. |
It’s been so long since I heard |
the melody of a thousand running springs. |
Now the reminiscence just reminds me |
of myself. |
Why would I need to tell myself about how I never learned to fly |
with my own arms, and how can anyone cloud state even listen if I couldn’t. |
My feet are soar from all this dancing with an axe in my arm, it never tasted |
wood and I can never really build a ladder tall enough. |
I can climb these walls |
around me and I can outrun my past but only for so long, until there are no |
winds to catch the sails that I’ve sown and my lungs have dried out from all |
the anger I’ve burnt. |
I’ll be staring wide at the velvet canopy, |
then closing my eyes, crossing fingers over hands hearing myself whispering |
words of hope and humility to a wind that I believe will carry my prayers to |
one who listens |