Lyrics High Without the Hope 72 - Port O'Brien

High Without the Hope 72

I see the consequence of one too many plans
Our time is short of hand
I’ll run through dark will come, leave them all behind
No one seems to mind
I’m home all the time, waiting on a move
That no one seems to choose
Still I’ll find regret
In every neighborhood
Up at your bedside
They’re not my brother
Oh, somehow now we have always known
Oh, this season we’d be on our own
Oh, I’m getting high without the hope
Oh, mourning’s never linear…