| A sinking ship, an awkward kiss
|
| A chance to set things straight
|
| The kind of hurt that burns and burns
|
| Like fires we can’t contain
|
| We hole up in a shelter made of bones and ice and there we’ll wait
|
| To start again with steady hands
|
| This time nothing gets in our way
|
| But as we peer a little closer what do we see?
|
| A crack in the surface
|
| A flaw in the plan
|
| (Plans we made together, almost buried in the sand)
|
| A cadence imperfect
|
| Like a building condemned
|
| (Can we indemnify ourselves if we don’t face what we’re against?)
|
| A promise kept
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| The dirt unswept
|
| A poorly worn disguise
|
| A child unloved that then grows up
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| To love what we despise
|
| We’re broken but still breathing
|
| We are wounded but we are healing
|
| We pick up right where we left off
|
| Breathe on the ashes that remain
|
| So that these coals may become fire
|
| To guide our way
|
| A crack in the surface
|
| A flaw in the plan
|
| (Plans we made together, almost buried in the sand)
|
| A cadence imperfect
|
| Like a building condemned
|
| (Can we indemnify ourselves if we don’t face what we’re against?)
|
| I walk on wounds
|
| That seldom prove to slow me down
|
| I laugh this constant pain away
|
| So you can’t tell
|
| But there it lies under the smiles
|
| It drains me mile after mile
|
| But seldom proves to slow me down
|
| Here I go, here I go, here I go
|
| Should we just hold on
|
| To what remains of
|
| What we thought was lost
|
| But it’s just a crack in the surface
|
| A flaw in the plan
|
| (Plans we made together, almost buried in the sand)
|
| A cadence imperfect
|
| Like a building condemned
|
| (Can we indemnify ourselves if we don’t face what we’re against?) |