| Wading in dark waters, a shovel at my side
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| Digging a grave for the depths to fill with defeat that I would hide
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| Hearing grace kiss the waves but afraid of the breakers roar
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| Who would set sail to hold a candle amidst a thunderstorm?
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| Like a hand grasping to sand I am filled and emptied constantly
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| How could I quiet the ocean that’s in front of me?
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| Toil and sweat and aspiration is but wringing rags into the deep
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| Tell me how I would ever stay the swarming seas
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| Am I chasing the wind?
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| Am I drowning in the shallow end?
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| Counting every step I take and boundaries you’ve assigned
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| But Davy Jones he beckons me back to die amongst the brine
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| Feet still sinking further, my body’s run a shore
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| Only in my nightmares have I seen this once before
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| Drowning in the shallow under the weight of the undertow
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| Drowning in the shallow under the weight of the undertow
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| Like a hand grasping to sand I am filled and emptied constantly
|
| How could I quiet the ocean that’s in front of me?
|
| Toil and sweat and aspiration is but wringing rags into the deep
|
| Tell me how I would ever stay the swarming seas
|
| Am I chasing the wind?
|
| Am I drowning in the shallow end?
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| Am I chasing the wind?
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| Am I drowning in the shallow end? |