There's no more wind to be found in the sails.
Hands full of fallen stars, and comet tails.
Rivers of sand unentwine through my hands.
To know what they've seen, well, my burdens all pale.
I'm make an hourglass from my fingers.
I know I'm only passing through.
I don't want to pretend that I'm stronger for it all.
I don't want to pretend that the sadness is gone,
Because I want to know that I'm steady on my feet.
I don't want to pretend, so peace will be real to me.
There's no respite to be found in the waves.
Each rise and retreat will scrub the blood away.
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|6||A Fire On A Hill|
|8||A Tale Of Outer Suburbia|
|9||The House You Built|
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|1||A Fire On A Hill|
|6||The House You Built|