| On the road to safe
|
| I kinda tripped along the way
|
| It just seemed like a nasty hassle
|
| The path was greener on the one less traveled
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| That’s where I remained
|
| People so high they think
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| I can’t hear the whispers
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| I can see it falling off their face
|
| They’re trying to shoot down my plane of grace
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| It seems like it’s already hard enough
|
| But the paint on me is beginning to dry
|
| And it’s not what I wanted to be
|
| The weight on me
|
| Is hanging on to a weary angel
|
| So tell me what it is about me
|
| Where did everybody go without me
|
| So, I like to fantasize
|
| And watch the sunrise like it’s a big surprise
|
| Life moves and I stopped to taste it
|
| I drank it up till it left me wasted
|
| But my rains have bled
|
| A softer red
|
| Oh you should see the world inside my head
|
| You can shackle me away
|
| And try to wrap around my dreamer
|
| I feel better when I paint my days
|
| With purple seas
|
| And left out grays
|
| Strange is just a different point of view
|
| But the paint on me is starting to dry
|
| And it’s not what I wanted to be
|
| The weight on me
|
| Is holding onto a weary angel
|
| I feel better when I paint my days
|
| With purple seas
|
| And left out grays
|
| Strange is just a different point of view
|
| But the pain on me is beginning to dry
|
| And it’s not what I want it to be
|
| So wait on me
|
| Wait on me
|
| You should see |