Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Sum of it All, artist - The Herd.
Date of issue: 25.08.2011
Song language: English
Sum of it All |
The blood, the sweat, the tears I’ve shed. |
What I’d bend for the ends, well. |
that depends |
on the prize and the pride of the name that I inherited; |
dirty hands; |
clean heart; |
rose up from the sediment |
I ain’t trying to build a mansion or expand a settlement |
or be an empty-headed guest on Letterman (fire!) |
Gotta keep the engine purring, and the fire stoked, |
redemption round the corner, holding onto higher hopes. |
Bigger than the music and all the liner notes — the good, the bad and |
everything that I had hoped. |
What is the trade-off in your life, What did you pay? |
What is the price? |
What did you way it up against? |
Was it worth it? |
You compromise so much that |
you forgot what you want. |
You are the sum of it all, is that what you want? |
Report read 'she's a dreamer, something wrong, we should screen her' |
How could they know the carnival in her fix when life got grim. |
If only they could taste the real thing, |
beneath their feet, beyond the ceiling. |
Like hounds, they’d be stuck on it, chasing, loving, hating, bathing, |
shaking it. |
They’d be doped on the feeling of it, move mountains clothed in it. |
Battle waves that swallow ships just to get a hit |
I run myself (away-oh) into the ground (away-oh). |
I live up to my father’s name |
Once more at a crossroads, looking up at signposts. |
All of those lives you’ll never live and cannot know. |
So I wonder, |
will I wander or hold my line? |
And I find myself longing for what can never be |
mine |
This tale’s tied together with invisible threads, lingering on what she said. |
What if instead of a missed opportunity, it just wasn’t meant to be? |
Please believe I never faked what it meant to me. |
Everything must change, |
don’t I know it, in a moment, hesitate and you’ve blown it. |
You want to know the possible, |
but it would freak you out if you were shown it, |
so I’m holding my course until this road ends. |
I know the pen is constant, |
but the ink is transient. |
More inclined to letting it ride than planning it. |
So I take my lumps, 'cause I wrote this story: it’s always feast or famine; |
always death or glory. |